Hide and Seek
by jelenamichel
Summary: Ziva's disappeared, Tony's keeping his mouth shut, and Gibbs is full of suspicion. How will Tony's choices impact the two most important relationships he has?
1. Prologue

**A/N: Yay! Back to posting. I've missed it. I missed getting reviews. They're so addictive.**

**Like the rest of my stories, this one focuses on the Tony/Ziva partnership, with healthy support from the rest of the team. Oh, Team Gibbs. How I miss you. I've been watching **_**The Real NCIS**_** on the Crime and Investigation channel, but it's not the same. All those special agents have these weird moustaches… **

**Disclaimer: Not mine. All I own is the snoring Labrador in front of the heater and this bowl of Café Grande icecream. And I'll thank you to keep your hands off both.**

* * *

It would take some time to recall the last day that the major case response team had like this. They had no crime scenes to poke around in, no witnesses to question or suspects to interrogate, no evidence to chase from the lab, not even any paperwork to file. MCRT were between cases for the first time in a long time, but instead of enjoying the break like they assumed they would—in fact, longed for on those cases that had them working 40 hours straight—they found the quiet to be simply…boring.

Gibbs had done the smart thing an hour ago and disappeared in a poof of sawdust and coffee, his destination and estimated time of return unknown. McGee had turned his attention to the next chapter of his book, in which Agent Tommy and Officer Lisa were lost and starving in the Appalachian Mountains. And Tony entertained himself by being Tony. He'd spent the morning throwing paper balls at McGee—had even developed a points system around the game—before moving on to catching up with his backlog of YouTube videos. Every few minutes he'd laugh out loud or make a noise that could reflect either disgust or awe.

Ziva was not one to sit at her desk for extended periods of time. She could do it when the case required it, but unless there was a body on Ducky's table downstairs, she found it difficult to sit still. She'd already spent an hour in the gym this morning, making mincemeat out of the punching bag. But it had hardly tired her out, and she was feeling bugsy again. No, antsy. Yes, that was it.

This antsy-ness was what had sent her down to see Abby a half hour ago, double-fisting Caf-Pow cups and a packet of peanut M&Ms. As soon as Abby realised she had a visitor, she had launched herself into Ziva's arms in a blur of pigtails and metal. And while Ziva had absorbed the body blow and prepared herself in time for the welcoming squeal, she hadn't been fast enough to avoid Abby's studded dog collar. She knew from experience that her neck would carry a welt for the next two days.

It had taken Abby just 20 minutes to get through her Caf-Pow. Ziva was still only a third of the way through hers, but her body was not as used to processing all the sugar and caffeine as Abby's, and she found herself even more jittery than before. She handed the rest of the cup over to Abby to finish before she turned into a Mossad-trained Energiser Bunny.

"So then I told her that I supposed I was going to be alone for the rest of my life," Abby was saying, her words coming out like a freight train. "And the next day my mom sent me a link to petfinder dot com."

Ziva snickered as she bit the chocolate off one side of the M&M. "I thought you weren't allowed to have pets in your apartment."

"I'm not," Abby pouted.

Ziva gave her an earth-grounding look. "Abby, you're not going to be alone for the rest of your life. Sooner or later you'll meet someone who is neither a complete freak nor a stalker, and it'll be happily ever after. Or whatever."

"Or whatever?"

"Well, whatever you want. Maybe only 'happily ever next ten years', or 'happily ever six months of satisfying sex'."

"You think all my boyfriends have been freaks?" Abby challenged.

Ziva remained level-headed. "Frankly, I can think of only one who has not been. And it has nothing to do with your other boyfriends' left-of-centre hobbies or physical appearances."

Abby considered this. "You're talking about McGee, right?"

Ziva popped another M&M. "He adores you."

Abby smiled whimsically. "I know. And I adore him, too. But right now, it's just not what I'm after."

"What are you after?"

"I don't know."

"You can have whatever you want, Abby. The world is your…lobster?"

"Oyster," Abby corrected.

Ziva nodded. "Yes. Oyster." She frowned. "That makes no literal sense."

Abby made a face. "But 'world is your lobster' does?"

Ziva threw her hands up. "Silly language! Anyway, my point with the oysters is that you might have to scrub the dirt off things to see it, but the opportunity is there."

Abby followed the thought. "Okay, but…oysters are all well and good, but I don't want just _plain_ oysters. I want them covered in spice and sauce."

Ziva pointed at her, knowingly. "Just not the kind that brings tears to your eyes and gives you heartburn."

Abby looked at her as if Ziva had just said the most profound thing imaginable. "Yes. _Exactly_."

Ziva shrugged. "Well, good luck."

Abby looked thoughtful. "Where do I find such an oyster?"

"Probably not on petfinder dot com."

Abby nodded, and then gave her a sidelong glance. She was dying to know where Ziva's head was at on her own 'oyster' issue, but Abby'd learnt long ago that for Ziva to go the full gossip girl, she had to have some tequila shots in her. Abby didn't have any tequila in the lab, so she'd have to make use of her most innocent voice and eyes.

"So, how's Tony today? I haven't seen him." She sucked up a mouthful of Caf-Pow as soon as she felt her straight face start to break.

If Ziva noticed, she didn't let on. "Bored. We all are. We need someone to die."

Abby gave her a horrified look, and Ziva rushed to smooth things over.

"That would be horrible, of course. Absolutely tragic. I just mean we need a case. I am close to creating a crime scene myself."

"Except Gibbs would totally catch you somehow," Abby said. "And then start interrogating you, which probably isn't as much fun as it sounds."

Ziva smirked, but said, "No, I think he would get Tony to interrogate me, believing that I would crack under the guilt of letting my partner down." She bit her lip as her imagination sparked. "That probably _would_ be a lot of fun."

Abby shook her head firmly, sending pigtails flying. "No, no, no. He couldn't get Tony to do it because Tony would probably be your co-defendant."

"You think Tony would commit a crime if I asked him to?" Ziva asked, almost laughing.

Abby replied, "I dunno, but he'd certainly help you hide the body."

Ziva considered this, and then shook her head. "No. Too big a risk."

"Would you help him?" Abby asked pointedly, already knowing the answer.

"Of course. But I have a slightly different view of right and wrong to Tony. To all of you."

Abby shook her head knowingly. "Trust me, Ziva. If you showed up at his door in the dead of night with a body in your trunk and blood on your hands, he'd help you dig the grave and dispose of the murder weapons." She paused. "Of course, we'd find them again and put you both away, but he'd be loyal to you."

Ziva's eyes went to the floor, suddenly embarrassed by the conversation. She quickly deflected the attention. "McGee would turn me in."

"Oh, he wouldn't let you through the front door," Abby agreed.

* * *

When Ziva returned to the bullpen, Gibbs had still not returned and McGee had disappeared, leaving Tony to sit at his desk and type at the blistering speed he reserved for those special occasions when he thought no one was around. For a moment, Ziva watched him from behind the stairs and thought about her conversation with Abby. She really would help Tony clean up a huge mess and then lie to cover his ass. But would he honestly do the same for her? Suddenly, Ziva really wanted to know.

Tony felt her presence as she rounded the corner, and heard her slip into his cubicle behind him a moment later. He cut his eyes away from the screen in her direction for just a moment before returning to his email.

"Your ninja stealth needs polishing," he told her as he finished the paragraph he was on.

She didn't reply—not verbally or by suddenly pressing a fountain pen to his throat—but he could feel the tension coming off her. Curious, he took his hands off the keys and spun his chair to face her.

Ziva was standing with her back against the partition that separated Tony's desk from the hallway. Her hands were clasped together tightly, and she regarded him with a look he absolutely could not read. He raised an eyebrow at her in question, and she opened her mouth as if to reply, before it quickly shut again and looking around skittishly.

"What?" he asked.

She was beginning to give him the heebie jeebies—a feeling that did not ebb when she suddenly dropped to her knees in front of him and sat back on her heels, before leaning forward as if about to impart a forbidden secret. Against his better judgement he leaned towards her, his elbows resting on his knees.

"_What_?" he asked again. Her edginess was beginning to rub off on him.

Ziva tucked her hair behind one ear—damn it, he loved that—and edged forward just a little. "If I asked," she began, her voice just above a whisper, "would you help me…clean up a mess?"

As the possible meaning behind her words sank in, Tony's expression turned serious. He lifted his head to look around the immediate vicinity, checking to make sure no one else was in earshot. "What did you do?" he asked her, his voice matching hers.

"Would you help?" Ziva asked again. "Even if you would get in a lot of trouble if anyone found out?"

Tony's head spun with the possibilities of what the Mossad assassin may have done that had her in this state. "Yes, of course," he said honestly, trying to remain calm. "Tell me what's going on."

Ziva looked back at him, a thoughtful look coming over her face before she shook her head. "Nothing is going on. I am simply curious."

Tony blinked at her, trying to comprehend. "Huh?"

"I was just talking to Abby," Ziva explained. "And she suggested that you would help me move a dead body if I needed you."

He stared at her for a full five seconds. "How exactly did that come up in conversation?"

Ziva shrugged. "I said we were bored."

Tony frowned deeply, trying to follow the train of thought. He couldn't. "Did you have a flagon of whisky at lunch?"

Ziva shook her head. "No. But I had a Caf-Pow."

Tony sat back quickly, as if moving out of the way of an expected avalanche of crazy. "A _full_ cup of Caf-Pow? Like what Abby has?"

"Half of that," Ziva said, shaking her head a dozen times too many. Finally, Tony realised that there was no red alert, no mess to clean up, no trouble to get into. She was just half-cracked out on caffeine. He sighed in relief.

"Get up," he told her.

When Ziva complied, he clamped his hands down on her hips, then moved her in a semi-circle as he spun in his chair. When he faced the open area towards McGee's desk, he shoved her away from him.

"Get out of here," he told her. "You almost gave me a heart attack."

Ziva chuckled as she lost her balance, then caught herself and wandered to her desk. "I just needed to know," she told him. "I am sorry if I alarmed you, but it is useful information to have."

Tony pointed at her accusingly. "_You_ should not have caffeine," he told her sternly. "We've talked about this before, Ziva. We don't mix ninjas with artificial flavours and colourings in this office."

She smiled and sat at her desk, then pulled up her email.

After a moment's silence, he said, "Hey. You'd do the same for me, right?" The expression on his face said he really and truly wanted to know.

She shrugged with the obvious. "Of course, Tony."

He regarded her for a moment, and then nodded once in approval. "Good to know."

* * *

**I'm going to do something different with publishing this story. I've actually already finished this puppy, which will allow me to be a lot more consistent with posting. Instead of posting three chapters in one hit, then giving you nothing for a week, you'll get a new chapter every two or three days. (Except today. You get this prologue and Chapter 1 today.) I hope this works for people.**

**On to Chapter 1.**


	2. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: Not mine.**

* * *

A week later, a 1am-knock on his door brought the strange conversation in the bullpen back into the front of Tony's mind.

_Don't answer it,_ he told himself as he cocooned himself deeper into his bed sheets. _Nothing good can come from a knock on the door past midnight. Unless it's a booty call, and for it to be a booty call, there has to first be a call. There has been no call, so you will receive no booty._

The knocking persisted, and Tony slowly woke enough to put some considered thought into the situation. People in this building generally didn't knock on neighbours' doors for the fun of it. People in this building also knew that he was a federal agent. Ergo, people in this building in need of emergency assistance were likely to come to his door in the middle of the night looking for help, should they need it.

Sighing, he threw back the covers, grabbed his gun off the bedside table and walked in a wobbly, sleepy line towards the front door. He winced as his bare feet hit the freezing tiles outside the kitchen, but couldn't be bothered going back for socks. Or a t-shirt. Whoever had the guts to wake him up would have to find the guts to deal with his partial nakedness.

He took a moment to check the peephole, and sighed when he saw Ziva standing in the hall. Quickly, he opened the door and ushered her in.

"Come in before you wake the dead," he whispered.

Ziva slipped in, her shoulder brushing his chest as she shot him a quick, tight smile.

"You have a key," he reminded her pointedly.

Ziva crossed her arms over her chest and followed him into the living room. "Yes, but the last time I used it in the middle of the night you almost shot me."

"You snuck up on me while I was asleep!" he argued.

"You sleep like a stone, Tony," she replied. "It is hard not to sneak up on you. I was expecting to have to get on top of you before you stirred."

"Rock," he corrected, and was about to argue more when her words sank in. "Were you really going to do that? I should have held out longer."

Ziva gave him a sultry smile that he knew was all tease. "Next time."

Tony rubbed his face. As much as he enjoyed flirting with his partner, he doubted she'd made the trip for some 1am innuendo. "What's up? Someone die?"

Ziva shook her head, and slowly moved forward to take the gun out of his hand. He hadn't realised he was still holding it, and let it go easily with a muttered apology. Ziva put it on the coffee table.

"This is not an NCIS matter," she told him.

Tony looked at her in the darkness of his living room, and noticed she was wearing one of her more serious expressions. In his experience, he hadn't found that expression to bring joy and sunshine into his life. He took a seat on the arm of the couch, took a deep breath, and then beckoned to her with his hand. "Give it to me."

"I need your help," she began, and Tony just hoped there wasn't a corpse already involved. "I have just become aware of a situation that could place me in a difficult position, and I must disappear for a few days to avoid it."

Tony's brain kicked into investigator mode. "What situation? A Mossad situation?"

They held gazes for a quiet moment, long enough for Tony to know he was right. But Ziva shook her head. "It is best if you do not know. Or it could put you in a similarly difficult position."

"Ziva," he seriously, "you can trust me."

"I know I can," she replied quickly, stepping into his personal space. "That is why I am here."

They shared another silent, heavy look. Just what, exactly, was she getting him into?

"What do you need?" he asked, accepting that he was going to stay in the dark, and trusting her reasons for keeping it that way. For now.

"A safe house," she said. "For a start. But not one of ours. I will be found. And I need help handling Gibbs."

Tony blew out a breath and scratched his head. He could already feel that handling Gibbs was going to give him a few grey hairs.

"I'm guessing that you want to get the hell out of Dodge," he said, addressing her first request.

Ziva gave him that look she always did when she didn't understand what he was saying. The look that made him want to grab her and kiss her senseless. He curled his hands into fists in an effort to hold on to himself, and instead shot her a tired smile. "You want to get out of DC."

Ziva nodded. "Yes. Do you have any contacts, perhaps from your time in Baltimore?"

Tony thought of his colleagues back at the police department. There was only one guy he was still in touch with, on and off, but he wouldn't trust him with Ziva. Only one viable option occurred to him. It made him slightly sick, but he knew it would work.

"No, but I have an idea."

He got up and headed into his bedroom, feeling Ziva at his heels. He snapped on the lamp beside the bed, and then opened his closet. Ziva settled onto the mattress, burrowing her cold hands under the blanket as Tony searched through the boxes and assorted, miscellaneous crap in the bottom of his closet. Finally, he pulled out the box that he was looking for and came around the bed to sit beside Ziva.

When he lifted the lid, Ziva caught sight of legal papers and photo books before Tony dug out a set of keys from the bottom of the box. He took Ziva's wrist and pulled her hand out from under the covers, put the keys in her palm, then returned her hand to where it had been. Then he reached past her for the pad of paper and pen on his bedside table, scrawled an address and put it on the covers in front of her.

Ziva read the address. "Southampton?" she asked.

Tony let out a deep breath. "That's my dad's place in Long Island," he said. "He's not there. He's in Spain with wife number five, and he probably won't be back for another four or five months. You should be safe there, considering my distant relationship with him. People probably won't think to look for you there."

"Especially if they don't suspect your involvement," Ziva said.

Tony gave her a knowing smile. "Ziva, I will be the first person suspected of being involved if you go missing."

Once again, their eyes met for a silent conversation. He knew what she was asking him to do meant more than hiding her for a few days with no repercussions. She knew it too. And they both quietly accepted it.

"Are you sure?" she asked, referring to the house.

Tony nodded. "You'll be safe there," he repeated.

Ziva gripped the keys and address and touched his cheek briefly. "Thank you."

Tony nodded. "You're not taking your car, right?" Of course she wasn't, he knew that. An amateur running away from home knew better, let alone a Mossad-trained agent. But he needed to move the conversation far away from his father.

She understood his discomfort, and didn't call him out on the question. "It will be easy to move around without it."

"Are you leaving now?"

"Yes. Do you have a bag I can borrow?"

Tony nodded and got up to pull an old gym bag out from the top of his closet. Ziva went to the chest of drawers along the far wall and started pulling out the few clothes she kept in there for emergencies.

While she packed, Tony went to the living room and grabbed a small selection of DVDs that he'd wanted her to watch since they met. He tossed them into the bag, along with his iPod. At least they would hold some entertainment value for her while she waited out…whatever it was she was waiting out. Then, he took a couple of his sweaters out of his closet and put them in the bag. If it was cold here, it would be cold there, and most of the tops Ziva was adding to the bag were t-shirts.

When she was done, she hefted the bag over her shoulder and Tony followed her back to the front door.

"There should be a couple of cars in the garage if you need to get out of there in a hurry," he said. "The house is pretty far back from the road, and you can't really see the neighbours, but I'd be careful about putting on too many lights all the same. Don't go into the basement unless you absolutely have to, and, um…" He searched for a witty remark to end on that would mask his tense mood. "Stay out of the liquor cabinet. Or I'll get grounded."

She sent him a grateful smile. "I will."

He hesitated. "Is there any chance that I'll ever find out what's going on?"

"Probably in a day or two," she admitted. "I just need a head start."

He stepped closer to her, concern etched on his face as he brushed his hand against hers. "Ziva, just tell me how much I need to worry about this."

She swallowed over the sudden, unexpected lump in her throat. "You need to worry about you holding up under Gibbs' scrutiny," she said. "Not about me. I will protect me."

"I'll tell him you called in sick," he told her, not at all calmed by her reply. "But that'll only hold up for a day or two."

"That will be long enough," she said. "I am sorry for asking you to lie."

"You don't think I can lie to him?"

"Yes, but you will not like it," she replied. She opened the door and stepped into the hall. "I'll be in contact tomorrow with a burn phone," she promised. "You should get one too."

He nodded, and then moved to the doorway as she started down the hall. His chest grew heavy with dread as he watched her walk away, and he'd called out to her for what he was afraid was his final look at her.

"Hey," he said, making her turn to look at him in question. Tony swallowed to clear his tight throat. "I'm going to see you again, right?"

She looked at him seriously for just a moment, before walking back to him. "Of course, Tony," she said, and then looked him up and down with a smile. "But just in case…" She laid her hand on his arm for balance, and leaned in to brush her lips against his.

Though his eyes showed his considerable worry when they pulled apart, he gave her an amused smile.

"Thank you," she said. She squeezed his hand and then turned and headed down the hall once more. He watched her until she turned the corner, waited until he heard the ding of the elevator, and then closed the door.

Yes, he'd help her out of a mess. Even if it meant he'd get in a lot of trouble when everyone found out.

* * *

**So…how's this sitting with people? Interested in the lying and the hiding and the eventual reunion of the Dynamic Duo? Let me know.**

**Also, we're all aware that Tony's from Long Island, but do we know **_**where,**_** exactly? If so, sorry if I changed that little detail. If not…um…I'm making it up.**


	3. Chapter 2

**A/N: Oh my God, thank you **_**so**_** much to everyone who reviewed. I love a full inbox! Keep it coming, please!  
Okay, so most of this chapter is dialogue. I know that can be a pain to read, but hopefully you'll like it enough to get through it.  
Disclaimer: Not mine.**

* * *

For Tony, the next two days were an exercise in patience and holding his nerve. Each morning he'd told Gibbs that Ziva had called to say she wasn't feeling well—"Ninja flu, boss"—and Gibbs had accepted it with a nod on the first day and a narrowed eye on the second. The Gibbs Squint gave him a moment's pause, but Tony's calm and rational inner voice had pointed out that Gibbs had no reason to suspect Tony was lying. He'd probably only squinted because he was half blind and hadn't had his third cup of coffee yet. Tony knew better than to read too deeply into Gibbs' actions before 10am.

He thought he was doing an okay job of being his normal self. He made sure to taunt McGee (but not too much), make stupid comments to Gibbs (but not too often), and bitched about Ziva leaving them short one pair of hands. He'd even gotten through a whole conversation with Abby about plans for Ziva's birthday without giving her a reason to accuse him of engineering hinkiness.

But then, whenever he was alone—coffee shop, diner, empty men's room—he'd drop the act and pull out the burn cell he'd picked up to check for messages.

Ziva's first message had gone to his normal cell phone while he was at a crime scene. He'd been bending over a blood trail and snapping shots when he'd felt his ass vibrate, and it had taken an enormous amount of self control to not pull the cell out of his back pocket straight away. He didn't want to draw Gibbs' attention unless absolutely necessary—checking his text messages while at a crime scene was definitely a head-slapping offence—so he waited until Gibbs and McGee had left the scene in the truck and he was by himself in the Ford to read the message. A single word from a number he didn't recognise: _Burn_.

On his way back to the Navy Yard, Tony had made a quick stop at a strip mall to pick up a prepaid cell of his own (paid for in cash) and called her back. Rationally, he'd known that Ziva would be fine. But it had still been a weight off his shoulders to hear her voice.

The conversation had been short:

"_Any issues?"_

"_None. Except for with the hair you had in high school."_

Tony had grinned, knowing immediately what she was referring to: the photo of himself on his Dad's mantelpiece when he was 17 and sporting an Andrew McCarthy circa Pretty in Pink 'do.

"_It was the eighties," _he'd explained._ "Call me if you need anything."_

After that, Tony spent the next 34 hours working the case of a marine bashed outside a nightclub. He checked for messages every few hours, but didn't have a chance to call her again until he finally got home just after 8pm on Thursday. She answered after the second ring, and Tony let himself think that she'd been waiting for the call.

"Tony," she said, foregoing the 'hello'.

"Well, that answers my question about whether we're supposed to have code names," he told her.

Her reply was quick. "I am not calling you James Bond."

He made a face. How'd she know that was going to be his punchline? "Fine. We'll do it your way, Zee-vah."

"Did you have any problems with Gibbs this morning?"

He grabbed a beer out of the fridge and smirked. "Define 'problem'. Did he grill me about your absence? No. Did he glare and slap and yell? Yes, he did."

"So, business as normal."

"Usual, yeah." He twisted off the lid and took a long draw from the bottle. "So far Abby is the only one talking about visiting you with flowers and chicken soup."

He heard the smile in her voice. "I suppose it would be too much to ask for you to go over to my apartment and pretend to be me?"

He considered that. "The wig I could probably handle. But I don't think I'd be able to get my ass into your jeans."

She chuckled. "I would hope not."

"Everything okay on your end?" He needed her to say it.

"Yes. I have rigged the house to alert me to any intruders and I have a clear view of the perimeter."

He rolled his eyes, but expected nothing else. "Did you clear the treehouse?"

"There is no treehouse."

Tony was momentarily hurt by the idea that his father had torn it down. Until he realised that it had been a present for his fifth birthday. He didn't know how long treehouses were supposed to last, but he supposed 35 years was a stretch.

"It probably wasn't big enough to house a terrorist cell, anyway." He leaned against the kitchen counter and downed half the bottle. Too late he realised he shouldn't have done that when he hadn't eaten since breakfast or slept in two days. He felt instantly light headed and murmured a 'whoa' to himself.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah. Just tired. We picked up a case yesterday morning."

"Have you slept?"

"Not yet." When did they ever sleep regular hours during an open case?

"Have you eaten?"

He frowned at the line of questioning that seemed very un-Ziva-like, and wondered if she was feeling a little guilt over this whole secret squirrel business.

She seemed to realise that she was verging on nagging. "Sorry. That was my mother asking."

He smiled at her blatantly lame excuse. "Tell your mother I'll have something before bed. And thank her for her concern."

"She does ask about you," Ziva said, and it took him a moment to realise that she was now referring to her actual mother.

"Really?" That was a surprise, to say the least. He couldn't recall more than two occasions when Ziva had mentioned her mother in the past.

"Well…yes."

"Realllly?" he drew out. That suggested Ziva talked to her mom about him, which he found _very_ interesting.

"She is worried about _me_," Ziva replied.

"With _me_?" he asked, vaguely offended.

"No. She is concerned that if you die I will be partnered with McGee."

He didn't doubt that was a joke, but went along with it anyway. "Your mother is a very smart woman."

"Yes, she is," she replied, as if it were a well-known fact. "I am sorry I am not there to help on this case."

Tony drained the last of the beer and shook his head as if she were standing in front of him. "Don't lose sleep over it, Ziva. It used to be just me and Gibbs handling all the cases by ourselves. And somehow I still managed to have a life."

"Really?" she drawled, and he knew what was coming. "So why do you not have one now that you have more help?"

"You're funny," he deadpanned.

"I think so."

"I have a life," he argued, as he opened the fridge door, went for another beer and then thought better of it. "It's just different now. I want different things to what I did then."

"I know that, Tony," she said quickly. "I'm sorry. I was joking."

He shook his head again. "Yeah, I know. I just…wanted to say it." _I'm not that guy anymore, Ziva._

If she heard what he meant, she chose not to address it. "You've been working with Gibbs a long time now."

Where the hell was this going? "Almost nine years."

"Why?"

The question took him off guard. "It's a steady paycheque."

"Why have you stayed so long?" she elaborated. "Before NCIS, it sounds like you moved around frequently."

That much was the truth. In the past, Tony had deliberately changed jobs about every two years. And when Gibbs recruited him, he fully expected to continue the pattern. Right up until his two years was up, and he found that he didn't want to leave.

"I had a lot to learn, and Gibbs had a lot to teach," he told her. It wasn't the whole truth. It hadn't been for years.

And Ziva knew it. "Tony, you have not been learning for a long time now."

Tony stared at the grout in the kitchen tiles, trying to decode her statement, and think of an answer that wouldn't leave him exposed. "You think I should move on?"

There was a moment of silence before she replied, her voice much thicker than a moment ago. "That is not an easy question to answer." When he didn't reply, she said, "I think you are better than what you are doing. You deserve more."

Did that mean she wanted him to go? Tony's throat tightened suddenly, and he thought of Jenny Shepard's Rota offer for the three millionth time. He cleared his throat and deflected his fears. "Well, I've been angling for a pay rise for a while now."

"Tony." It was a single word but her tone was clear. She was trying to say something important, and he wasn't listening to her. He kept his mouth shut and waited for her to continue.

"Are you waiting for Gibbs to retire?" she asked. "Again?"

"No, I'm…" He trailed off as he tried to think of the answer she was looking for. He didn't have a clue what that was, but if she wanted serious, he'd give it to her. "I'm choosing family over career."

When she didn't reply immediately, he wondered if maybe she didn't believe him. His chest panged as he thought about how little faith in him she must have. _I'm not that guy anymore, Ziva._

But she proved him wrong. "We will always be your family, Tony," she said softly.

Although he was heartened by the comment, it didn't escape him that the words were coming from someone sitting in his childhood home. He had to laugh. "Careful, Ziva. The walls in Dad's house have ears. And if they hear you making nice comments like that, they'll kick your ass."

"I would like to see them try," she replied, and Tony had to smile. Forget helping him cover up a murder. Ziva would take down DiNozzo Senior if he asked her to.

"A perverted part of me would like to see that," he admitted.

"So, you are not going anywhere?" she asked, returning to the conversation.

"No. Why? Did you think I was?" Was that why she was quizzing him suddenly?

"No. I had just wondered. When I first joined the team, McGee said something to the effect that you probably wouldn't stay much longer."

Tony narrowed his eyes. "Why did McGossip say that?"

"It was my first week and you were annoying me. I believe he was trying to make me feel better."

"Thanks," he said, flatly. "No, I mean what was his reasoning behind that assumption?"

"I do not know. You would have to ask him. Perhaps he was aware of your employment history."

"I'm not planning on going anywhere," he repeated. "And it's unlikely I'll be offered a promotion anytime soon."

"I am surprised Jenny did not offer you once after Gibbs returned," Ziva said, so casually that Tony had to wonder if it was an act, and she knew all about the Rota assignment.

"Yeah, well maybe she wasn't particularly impressed with the way I did things as team leader."

"That is not true," Ziva said confidently. "She gave you a very high level undercov—"

Tony's eyes snapped up as she abruptly ended the sentence. As a rule, he and Ziva didn't talk about the mission that brought Jeanne into his life. That would mean talking about lying and trust issues and feelings that may or may not have been there—for both of them—while Gibbs had been south of the border. He knew The Jeanne Conversation would eventually happen, but he wasn't ready for it now. And by the sounds of it, neither was she.

"I think it was punishment," he told her, trying to keep things moving before they got bogged down in the past. "I wasn't her first choice for the assignment."

Ziva obviously had not known that. "Oh. Punishment for what?"

Tony rubbed his face. God, he wanted to tell her. It had been on the tip of his tongue so many times, and he'd always managed to keep his mouth shut. But tonight they were having their first honest-to-God, all cards on the table conversation in months. Maybe they weren't ready for The Jeanne Conversation (Extended Dancefloor Mix), but this was one MOAS he would give her.

"Okay, you have to put this in the vault."

"What vault?"

"Your internal vault," he said patiently. "You know, _Seinfeld_? I give you this information, and you lock it inside yourself and you never, ever bring it out for anybody."

She seemed to understand. "Oh. Yes, I can put it in my vault."

Tony smirked briefly, the way he always did when Ziva tried out a pop culture reference for the first time. And then he spilled his secret.

"Jenny did offer me a promotion. She offered me my own team not long after Gibbs came back."

"And you didn't take it?" she asked, genuinely surprised.

"It was in Rota."

Her silence was confirmation that she had _not_ already known.

"It's hard to be family when you're across the other side of the world," he explained.

"Spain," she finally said, and it was only because Tony knew her so well that he caught the slight wavering of her voice.

"Further Beyond," he said, quoting the country's motto. "Beyond where I wanted to go."

"Gibbs does not know?" she guessed.

"No," he confirmed. "Just you and me, kid." He let the silence hang while she gathered her thoughts.

"Do you regret not taking it?"

The laugh tumbled out of his mouth before he could catch it, which he put down to exhaustion. "Some days. Particularly those ones where I realise I've worked 50 hours straight and gotten nowhere, and Gibbs is throwing tantrums that a five-year-old would consider beneath them." He paused while she chuckled. "But it doesn't last long."

"Why not?"

He felt his throat tighten again, and rolled his eyes at himself. Jesus, he was getting soft as he got older. "Because in the middle of me working out my _epic_ quitting speech," he began, hearing the waver in his voice match hers, "you'll smile at me. Or Abby will say something only Abby could. Or McGee will ask my advice on something. And that's enough for me."

"Oh," she said softly, obviously not expecting that level of honesty.

_That's the guy I'm trying to be now, Ziva._

He didn't voice the other reason he'd turned the job down. The reason that had to do with Ziva, and the _thing_ that was maybe starting to happen between them at the time. They'd gotten pretty close while Gibbs was away, and Tony had genuinely wanted to see where it was going. Of course, he never got the chance. Gibbs came back, and Jeanne came along. Then Jeanne was gone, and he had to regain Ziva's trust. And by the time he'd done that, Jenny had broken up the team and suddenly Ziva was 6,000 miles away. They'd just never had a real chance…

"I am sorry for the missed opportunity," Ziva was saying. "But I am glad you did not go."

That made him smile. "Me too. Anyway, I think the…assignment Jenny gave me was punishment for not taking the Rota job."

Ziva cleared her throat, and Tony thought she was probably having the same throat issues as he was tonight. "Jenny gave you that assignment because she had faith in your ability to do the job, Tony."

_And wasn't my performance spectacular?_ he thought bitterly. "Whatever. It's in the past."

"Water over the road," she agreed.

"Under the bridge," he said, smiling. He knew there were times she messed up idioms just to entertain him, and he suspected this was one of those times.

"That too."

Tony turned his head away from the phone as a yawn hit him. He had now been awake for going on 43 hours, but he wasn't ready to hang up just yet. If he was talking to her, he could be sure that whatever Mossad issue she was having was not turning into an _active_ issue. So he stayed on the line.

"I wish Abby knew I was here," she said, sighing. "I would like to send her some of these old photos of you in your football uniform. I think she would enjoy them."

Tony laughed at the teasing in her voice. "I'd love to see photos of _her_ in high school. Rumour has it she was _not _a Goth."

"No?"

"Mhmm. Blonde hair," he gossiped. "Coats with shoulderpads, huge t-shirts tucked into acid-wash jeans, and high-tops."

"No!"

"It was probably just a phase," he reasoned. "But it would have scared her parents half to death." He yawned again, and this time Ziva heard him.

"You should get some sleep, Tony," she said. "Gibbs will be hard enough to deal with when you tell him I will not be in again. And you have a case to work on. Exhaustion will not help you solve it."

Perhaps not, but he was loathe to hang up and break the connection for the night. "No, I'm fine. Really."

"So am I," Ziva told him pointedly.

He sighed. He could protest all he wanted, but sooner or later it was going to get pathetic. "Call me if you need anything."

"You're on my speed dial."

"Do you need anything else?" he asked, drawing it out just a little longer. "Have you got enough DVDs and books and—"

"Yes, Tony," she cut him off. "Thank you."

He gave in. "Okay. Goodnight."

"Sweet dreams, Tony."

He smiled down the phone. "Count on it, sweetcheeks."

* * *

**Just a little scene to set the emotional mood. Next chapter is when it all starts hitting the fan. Will post in a day or two.**


	4. Chapter 3

**A/N: Just a warning that there's some slightly graphic descriptions of torture in this chapter.  
****A word about the timeline. This is set during season 6, but before the, uh, **_**ugliness**_**. Which means that Jenny shouldn't be alive. But she is, because I need a Director who Tony is more emotionally connected to. Cheating, I know. Sorry. [bows head in shame]  
Another big thank you for reviews. It's lovely to know that people are into this story.**

**Disclaimer: Not mine.**

* * *

Tony didn't get a chance to make another ninja flu excuse. In fact, he barely had the chance to make it to his desk on Friday morning when Jenny appeared on the stairs above him.

"Gibbs, I need to see your team in my office," she said, her tone ominous. "Now."

Tony swallowed and tried to slip on his poker face, undetected. This was it. Ziva's secret mission was coming into the light, and Tony was about to get burned. He steeled himself before following Gibbs and McGee up the stairs, and they all fell in line behind Jenny as they headed to her office.

Jenny took a seat at the head of the small conference table, where several thick files were waiting for her. "Sit," she told them.

Tony closed the door and took the seat closest to it. He clasped his hands together under the table, dreading what was about to happen. He'd known from the second Ziva showed up at his door that it was going to be bad. But if Jenny's face was anything to go by, it was going to be worse than he'd thought.

Jenny looked at them all in turn, lingering on Tony, before she spoke. "I've just had a conference call with the CIA and Homeland Security regarding a prisoner who escaped from jail in Turkey last week. It is believed he may have illegally entered the US sometime in the last three days using a fake passport, and that he is currently in the DC area." She paused to take a photo out of one of the files, and held it up briefly before sliding it onto the table between them. "His name is Zeki Yasar, but he has a list of aliases as long as my arm."

Tony stole a look at the photo of a dark-eyed, clean-shaven man in his 20s. His dark hair was short and neat, and his white shirt was pressed and clean. He looked like he belonged on Wall Street.

"What was he in prison for?" Gibbs asked.

Again, Jenny's eyes lingered on Tony for just a moment longer than the others. There was a look in her eye he couldn't quite read, but it made his stomach clench.

"Murder," Jenny said. "And torture. Rape. Kidnapping. He attacked or killed twelve women in Turkey over a three-year period from 2000."

"Why do our friends in the CIA think he's in the US?" Gibbs asked.

Jenny continued to fix her gaze on Tony, and this time it got Gibbs attention. He looked between the two of them, and Tony put all his faith in his poker face standing up to the scrutiny.

"Yasar's cellmate informed authorities that he was obsessed with tracking down the people who captured him," Jenny said. She pulled out a report from the folder and placed it on the table next to Yasar's photo. "He was brought down, purely by coincidence, by a Mossad team targeting a terrorist splinter group in the area."

"Ziva," Gibbs said.

Jenny nodded. "According to this report, she was the first one through to door when they stormed his home, acting on bad intel. He had his twelfth victim hanging from the ceiling at the time. She died three hours later."

In his peripheral vision, Tony saw McGee turn his head to look at him. Tony kept his eyes on the director.

"How did he know Ziva had moved to the US?" McGee asked.

"He could have found out in any number of ways," Gibbs said. "Her liaison position isn't classified."

"I understand Ziva has not been at work for the last few days?" Jenny asked. She looked to Gibbs for confirmation, and Gibbs looked to Tony. It took a fraction of a moment for Tony to recognise the suspicion in Gibbs' eyes.

"You think he already got her?" McGee asked, the only agitated voice in a room full of people exercising control.

Gibbs didn't take his eyes off Tony. "Well, she's been calling Tony every morning to say she's sick, so she's probably fine. Right, DiNozzo?"

He knew Gibbs was challenging him, but it would take more than a Gibbs Stare to break him. He stepped into the spotlight. "Right, boss. That's what she told me."

"Well that's where we have a problem," Jenny said. "The CIA sent agents to her apartment this morning to take her into protective custody. She's not there, but her car is in the lot. Neighbour says he hasn't heard or seen her since Tuesday night."

"Wallet? Gun? Badge?" Gibbs asked.

"All missing," Jenny said.

Gibbs pulled out his cell and put it on speakerphone while he speed dialled Ziva. An automated voice came back at them almost immediately. _Sorry. The cellular phone you are calling is switched off. Please try again later._

A stormy look crossed Gibbs' face. "Never be unreachable," he grumbled. "David knows better."

"Your team is familiar with your rules, Agent Gibbs," Jenny said, then looked to Tony. "Did Ziva call in sick again this morning?"

Tony shook his head. No point in lying about that. "No. I haven't heard from her since yesterday."

"Did she sound like she was being coerced?" Jenny asked.

He shook his head again, and geared up for some real lying. "No, she sounded fine. And she didn't use the duress word."

Gibbs and Jenny shared a look, before she asked, "What investigation are you two on that requires a duress word?" She fixed Gibbs with a glare that promised pain and suffering if he was running secret operations without her say so. But Gibbs shook his head, and they turned to Tony, awaiting a reply.

"None," Tony said. "But we have our own." They continued to stare at him, and Tony went on the defensive. "What, you two never agreed on a word? It's just good partner practice. I even have one with McGee."

McGee looked lost. "You do?"

"Yes, it's _McGee, I'm under duress right now. Come help me out_. I guess it's more of a sentence."

"You don't seem particularly concerned that a murderer is after your partner, DiNozzo," Gibbs cut in. "Know something we don't?"

Tony turned the poker face to him. "No, I think everyone in this room _knows_ how much damage Ziva can inflict with just her pinky finger."

He held Gibbs' gaze, and could practically pinpoint the moment when Gibbs had his strategy for dealing with the situation worked out. Nine years really was a long time to work with a person. He predicted that Gibbs would take one of two roads: 1) Ask for specific and graphic descriptions of what Yasar had done to his victims, hoping it would scare Tony into giving up the information, or 2) Pretend to place all his faith and judgement in Tony's ability to find her, thereby guilting Tony into giving up the information.

Gibbs turned back to Jenny. "What about these women he killed? What did he do to them?"

Option one, then.

Jenny opened the other folder and pulled out a thick stack of crime scene photos. "His last victim, the woman Ziva found him with, was hanging from the ceiling by her arms. She'd been missing three days, and the autopsy suggested that she'd spend most of that time being tortured. He'd slit her throat, and had raped her repeatedly."

Gibbs spread the photos out, making sure they were turned right side up for Tony. He did not particularly want to look at the gruesome scenes and headless bodies, but he was an investigator who had worked dozens of homicides and learned long ago how to separate himself from the horrors he witnessed. He looked down at them with the well-practiced expression of a cop focused on a puzzle

"That was his MO," Jenny went on. "Except that he sliced the skin off the faces of all his other victims. He didn't get a chance with his last."

"How did he find them?" McGee asked. It was a question that Tony would usually have asked, but right now Tony was keeping quiet. He knew Gibbs would analyse every word he chose to use, and the inflection in his delivery.

"He took them on dates," Jenny started. "He would watch a woman for several days, learning her habits, before staging a meeting. He would often bump into a woman while she was alone and spill her drink, then offer to buy her a new one. He'd rely on his looks and charm to put her at ease, tell her he was a cop to make her feel even safer. Talk her into having lunch with him, and then, when he sensed she was relaxed with him, he would suggest that they go for a walk. He would lead her to his car, parked well away from the crowds, and then incapacitate her."

Tony felt sick. He had no doubt that the ploy worked. He'd used it himself dozens of times to get women into bed. The staged meeting, the charming smile and conversation, the casually dropped reference to being a trustworthy federal agent, the walk after dinner. Nine times out of ten, it worked. If you chose the right woman, it really was that easy.

And suddenly, it really was that disgusting.

"DiNozzo," Gibbs barked.

Tony lifted his eyes from the table to meet his mentor's suspicious blue eyes.

"Going to display any interest in this any time soon?"

He kept his calm expression in place, but answered honestly. "Sorry. Busy hating men for a moment there." He cleared his throat and looked to Jenny's far more sympathetic eyes. "Is there any evidence to suggest that he knows where Ziva lives? Or where she shops, runs, buys the paper? What she drives? Anything like that?" He really did want to know.

"No," Jenny replied. "But until we find Yasar or Ziva I want to act on the assumption that he could find that information with average computer skills and a day spent following her."

Tony nodded. "So what's the split? CIA look for Yasar, we look for Ziva?"

Jenny nodded. "We're to share all information." She looked to Gibbs. "_All_ information."

Gibbs held her gaze—he didn't trust the CIA as far as he could throw them—but he nodded his assent. "McGee, get down to Abby's lab and start a trace of Ziva's phone."

"Yes, boss," McGee said, and stood.

Tony started to rise also, but Gibbs said, "Not you. You stay."

He used those precious seconds it took for McGee to leave the room in order to get his story straight in his head, then looked at Gibbs expectantly.

"What do you know?" Gibbs asked after McGee had closed the door. His voice was unnervingly calm, and Tony matched it.

"About this? Nothing."

"You sure about that?"

"Yes."

Gibbs narrowed his eyes and sized him up. Two years ago, Tony may have cracked. But he'd done a lot of growing up since then, a lot of soul searching and evaluation of priorities. It was fair to say that Gibbs would always remain his father figure, but Tony found that these days he wasn't as desperate for approval as he'd once been. He was not focused on being the golden child. Instead, he was focused on making his own rules, even if the one he was relying on now came direct from the Master: _Never screw over your partner_.

Gibbs leaned forward, his expression darkening. "I'm not losing another agent to another psychopath," he said warningly. "So if you know where she is, you better damn well tell me."

Tony wouldn't have been able to hide the look of hurt that settled on his face even if he'd tried. Did Gibbs think Kate's death was somehow his fault? How could he possibly—

"Agent Gibbs," Jenny cut in, her voice hard. "That will be all."

Gibbs held Tony's wounded gaze for a full five seconds before gathering up the crime scene photos and carrying both folders out of the room. The slam of the door was expected, and Tony did not jump.

He looked to Jenny with hurt, disbelieving eyes. "He blames me for Kate?"

Jenny shook her head firmly. "No, Tony. Of course not. He's scared."

"Gibbs doesn't get scared."

"He does when one of you is in danger," Jenny countered. "When you got sick, when Abby was almost killed, he got scared. And when that happens he doesn't always think through what he says."

He wasn't sure if he bought it, but Jenny wasn't giving him time to make up his mind.

"Why does he seem to think you know where Ziva is?" she asked gently.

Tony sighed and rubbed his stinging eyes. "I honestly couldn't tell you."

There was a beat of silence where Tony could feel her studying him. "Ah," she finally said. "Because you _do_ know where she is."

Tony cursed Gibbs' gut. "I don't."

Jenny got up, only to move to the seat next to him. She leaned towards him, putting herself in a position that Tony could not realistically continue to ignore. He had to look at her.

"Tony," she began, using that tone she did when she was working for someone's trust. "I know you think you're helping her—"

"I don't know where she is," Tony repeated, cutting her off. "And even if I did, I wouldn't give her up. Not to you, not to Gibbs, not to anyone. So stop asking."

Jenny leaned back again. Clearly, she didn't believe him. But she understood that she was hitting a Tony-shaped brick wall. She tried a different approach. "Okay, then let me hear your thoughts. Do you think it's possible that Ziva may have known that Yasar was in the country?"

"How would she know that?" he asked, tiredly.

"She has an extensive network of contacts," Jenny said.

Tony quickly assessed the situation. Jenny was going to keep squeezing him for information until she was satisfied. She would also keep the team looking for Ziva unless she had a good reason to tell them not to. And honestly, Tony couldn't spend the next few days pretending to look for her. He had to give her something.

"It's possible that one of them contacted her with information," he finally replied.

"At which point, Ziva would have done what?"

He answered her honestly. "One of three things. Inform you, Gibbs and Mossad of the situation. Find him before he found her and then go full tilt ninja on his ass. Or fall off the face of the earth until she's convinced the threat has passed. If that's what she's decided to do, you won't find her." He leaned in to look at her pointedly. "And given Ziva's hardcore military training, my feeling is that you wouldn't have to worry about her staying safe."

Jenny regarded him for a few moments, and finally nodded. "Alright, Tony. I'm going to trust that the two of you know what you're doing, and call off Gibbs' search."

Finally off the hook, Tony forced a charming smile to his face. "If we were doing anything right now that required your trust, I'd be flattered."

* * *

**So…how'd that sit with people? It occurs to me that I generally paints Gibbs as a bit of a bastard (extra B and all), but I do love it so when Gibbs and Tony are fighting.  
Reviews make my day.**


	5. Chapter 4

**A/N: Reviews continue to be a great source of joy. Thank you! I'm glad people are enjoying Gibbs and Tony being at odds, because that's not going to end any time soon. **

**Disclaimer: Not mine. **

* * *

Gibbs stormed out of Jenny's office and headed straight down to Abby's lab where he found McGee talking to the scientist in intense, hushed tones. By the look of horror on Abby's face, it was clear that McGee was filling her in on all the details. He didn't care much that he was interrupting, and whistled to get their attention. When the two of them jumped and looked up, he pointed at McGee.

"You. With me."

He strode back to the elevator without waiting to see if McGee was following, and stepped inside. McGee barely made it in before the doors closed.

"Yes, boss?"

Gibbs hit the emergency button and stepped towards the young agent, taking advantage of the power he held over him. McGee involuntarily leaned back.

"DiNozzo knows where she is," Gibbs stated, as if it were fact. "I want to know what DiNozzo knows."

"You want me to ask him?" McGee tried.

Wrong answer. Gibbs leaned closer and added a glare. "I want you to do that hacking thing you do on Tony's computer. I want you to read every email, every message between them. Get his phone too."

McGee gulped. "Okay," he said slowly. "What am I looking for?"

"_Ziva_," Gibbs cried, as if it were obvious. "You find me anything that they said to each other about a hiding place. Or anything about this Yasar guy."

"You don't think she's safe?" McGee asked. At Gibbs' expression, he revised his tone. "You don't think she's safe."

Gibbs hit the emergency button again, and the elevator rose towards the bullpen as McGee's stomach hit the floor. He could already see how this task was going to play out, and he was _not_ looking forward to it.

Before the doors opened, Gibbs' cell phone went off and he had a gruff, monosyllabic conversation with the caller. He seemed to be grudgingly agreeing to something.

McGee got out on their floor as Gibbs continued upwards. Tony was now back at his desk, staring at his computer and doing an almost convincing job of hiding his panic. His jaw looked tight enough to snap, and he had that look on his face that told McGee he was _this close_ to unleashing the crazy. It was hard to tell which crazy Tony would favour right now: the wild, dramatic, show-stopping speech, or the dark, menacing and vaguely violent show of force. Either way, McGee knew that he was better off conducting this conversation from at least six feet away.

He cleared his throat. "Uh, Tony?" he started cautiously. "Gibbs wants me to go through all your emails, IMs, and texts with Ziva. You know, to make sure she didn't tell you where you were going, and you just forgot?"

Not even Abby would come up with a lie that lame, and Tony seemed disappointed that it was the best McGee could do. Frankly, so was McGee.

"I could hack in, but it'd be a lot easier if you…just let me."

Instead of the anger he'd been expecting, McGee only found resignation in Tony's eyes. He realised that Tony had probably seen this coming—he knew Gibbs' investigative methods better than anyone. McGee gave a second's suspicion to the idea that Tony would have already wiped anything relevant, but decided not to call him on it just yet.

"Have at it, McNosy," Tony said, his tone far gentler than McGee expected. He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and handed it over.

McGee looked at the phone in his hand, half expecting it to be a fake. "Really?"

Tony shrugged. "You're just doing your job," he said, and got to his feet, leaving the desk free for McGee to attack his computer. "Actually, you're not. Your job is to investigate criminal activity, and there's not a shred of evidence to say that me or Ziva is doing anything criminal here. But you're doing what Gibbs told you to, and I am more than familiar with how that goes."

He clapped McGee on the shoulder as he passed, a gesture of comradeship rather than warning, and headed to the elevator.

McGee watched him go, and then reluctantly sank into Tony's chair, preparing to spy on his friends. Sometimes he hated his job.

* * *

Jenny was outside her office, talking to Cynthia when Gibbs strode back in. He didn't look at Jenny, didn't wait for her to finish her conversation before he went straight into her office and waited for her to follow. A moment later she did, and she closed the door firmly, letting her hand rest on the doorhandle as they spoke.

"I was summoned," Gibbs snarked.

Jenny gave back the glare as good as she got it. "Drop it."

Gibbs flinched. "Excuse me?"

"Drop it, Jethro," she said again, her tone leaving no room for argument.

Gibbs could think of only one reason that the Director of NCIS would direct him to _not_ look for a missing agent. "Did you crack him? What did they do?"

Jenny borrowed Tony's practised poker face. "Tony doesn't know anything."

"The hell he doesn't," Gibbs growled.

Her expression didn't change. "Drop it."

"You're ordering me?"

"Do I have to?"

They stared at each other in silence, Gibbs trying to break her and Jenny not giving an inch. He felt betrayed. It seemed that when Ziva had needed help, she'd gone to Tony. But hadn't Gibbs been the one to help her in the past? Then Tony refused to let him in on what was going on, going so far as to lie to his face. But hadn't Gibbs always been his confidante? Now Jenny was in on the secret and siding with Gibbs' protégé. But hadn't Gibbs been her partner?

When had his team moved on without him? Correction: half his team. He still had Abby and McGee. And he fully intended to use them. Tony may have believed what he said, that Ziva could incapacitate a man with just her pinky finger. To an extent, Gibbs believed that too. But what kind of boss would he be, what kind of father, what kind of friend, if he didn't confirm with his own two eyes that she was safe?

He nodded to Jenny as if accepting her direction, but there was no way he was dropping this.

He wouldn't lose another agent to another psychopath.

* * *

Tony waited until he was four blocks from the NCIS building and inside the coffee shop that Gibbs couldn't stand before pulling out his burn phone and calling the only number saved to its memory. He did a quick scan of the café for familiar faces as he made his way to the back corner, and then sat down facing the street.

Ziva picked up after the second ring. "Tony."

He didn't bother with pleasantries. "Your head start is over," he told her, surprised by how rough his voice sounded. "Jenny's been talking to the CIA and Homeland Security, and now everyone is either looking for you or Yasar."

He heard her sigh in disappointment, even though she'd been expecting it all along. "Thank you, Tony."

"I am…" He paused as he tried to control his voice. "I am so mad."

"I expected this," she said quietly. "But I have good reasons for not explaining everything."

"Why wouldn't you trust—" He broke off and took a deep breath. He didn't want to have this conversation in a coffee shop. "You know what? You can fill me in later. I've got to go. Gibbs is probably tailing me."

"He suspects your involvement?"

Tony almost laughed. "That would explain why he and Jenny just spent a half hour interrogating me," he said, barely succeeding in keeping his voice level. "And now he has McGee going through every piece of electronic communication between us."

"Tony," she started, apology in her voice, but Tony couldn't hear it right now. He was busy being mad and freaking out.

"I've got to go. If this guy comes near you, you kill him." He wasn't joking.

"I am prepared."

That was his cue to hang up, but just like the night before, he found that he couldn't. A scene jumped into his head, one in which he turned up at his dad's house and opened the door to find Ziva's headless body hanging from the ceiling. Fear gripped his chest, and he cursed himself for letting her go off alone when he knew when she walked out of his apartment the other night that something very bad was going on. She was his partner. He should always have her six.

"I should drive up now," he said, his voice so much softer than it had been but no less stressed.

"Please don't," she said. It hurt that she didn't want his help, but he knew she was trying to be gentle. That was why she'd said _please_. "Not until Yasar is contained. I can't have him following you. Or using you. He will be found soon, one way or another."

He frowned at her choice of words. "You know something else I don't?"

There was a beat of silence. "Probably."

Tony wanted to reach through the phone to grab her. He just wasn't sure if he wanted to strangle her or hug her to him and shield her from her enemies. Not that it mattered. He couldn't do either right now.

He took a deep, calming breath. "I'll call you back when I can."

* * *

**I know this chapter was much shorter than the others, but I'll post two chapters together next time. Wonder what Tony and Ziva's IMs say…**


	6. Chapter 5

**A/N: I tried to post this a few days ago but had major upload issues. Then major internet connection issues. BAH!  
I'm posting this chapter with chapter 6, because I think they're better to read together. I hope this chapter makes sense to people…  
As always, all your reviews make my day. I'm so glad people are into this thing.**

**Disclaimer: Not mine.**

* * *

DAVID, Ziva [10.06AM]: Grabass!  
DAVID, Ziva [10.06AM]: Grabass! Grabass! Grabass!  
DINOZZO, Anthony [10.06AM]: You just like saying the word.  
DAVID, Ziva [10.06AM]: GRABASS!

McGee rolled his eyes and closed another instant message log between Tony and Ziva. He'd been doing a lot of eye rolling since he started trawling through their messages. So much, in fact, that he was beginning to get shooting pains behind his left eyeball. He'd been at this for almost five hours now, had scanned through God only knew how many emails and IMs, and hadn't found even the slightest piece of the flimsiest evidence to suggest that Ziva and Tony had discussed the Yasar situation at all. There was no mention of safe houses, nothing about contacts who could help in dangerous situations, not a single word about Ziva planning to disappear. Their emails were almost exclusively work-related, and while their IMs frequently discussed meeting up after work, only one made mention of going somewhere other than their regular haunts.

DAVID, Ziva [19.53PM]: Quitting urges.  
DINOZZO, Anthony [19.53PM]: Fight them. Summer in DC is easier than in Israel.  
DAVID, Ziva [19.53PM]: One more pile of guts and I'm flying to Australia.  
DINOZZO, Anthony [19.53PM]: I'm with you.  
DAVID, Ziva [19.55PM]: Free tonight?  
DINOZZO, Anthony [19.55PM]: What are you in the mood for?  
DAVID, Ziva [19.55PM]: Just get me drunk.  
DINOZZO, Anthony [19.56PM]: I've definitely got a talent for that.  
DINOZZO, Anthony [19.56PM]: Mine or yours?  
DAVID, Ziva [19.56PM]: Mine. Too hot at yours.  
DAVID, Ziva [19.56PM]: You need to move.  
DINOZZO, Anthony [19.57PM]: Working on it.  
DINOZZO, Anthony [19.58PM]: Got to head to mine first. Be there about 2100.  
DAVID, Ziva [19.58PM]: Unless Gibbs finds more guts to poke through.  
DINOZZO, Anthony [19.58PM]: Then I might not be there until 2200. Packing for Australia will take longer.  
DAVID, Ziva [19.59PM]: It's winter there. Bring mittens.

Somehow McGee thought it was an empty threat. He remembered the case that had them all up to their elbows in innards. Personally, he'd considered moving to Timbuktu.

The rest of the IMs had fallen into four categories: innuendo and dates (maybe that wasn't the official name that Tony and Ziva gave them, but McGee knew a date when he saw one), office politics (Gibbs is cranky, let's prank McGee, what would Abby think?), fraud (just how many times had Tony taken the wrap for one of Ziva's car accidents?), and random strings of consciousness:

DINOZZO, Anthony [14.41PM]: I didn't get to tell you the best bit.  
DAVID, Ziva [14.41PM]: ?  
DINOZZO, Anthony [14.41PM]: After the monkey thing he died of a cocaine-induced overdose while having sex with a prostitute.  
DAVID, Ziva [14.41PM]: I always thought that's how I'd go.

The text messages had been much the same. A lot of "You're late. Where are you?" and "Want me to grab you a coffee?" and, as far as McGee could tell, critiques of _So You Think You Can Dance_ performances.

When his eyes and his patience could take no more, he headed down to the lab to see if Abby had found anything interesting in their cell phone logs. With a Caf-Pow in Abby's hand and a coffee in McGee's, they sat side-by-side at the main workstation, shoulders slumped, and tried to work out if they had anything useful.

"So, there was definitely no call between Ziva's home or cell phone and Tony's home or cell phones on Wednesday or Thursday," Abby said, trying to talk it out in an effort to get it straight in her head. "But Tony said she called him both mornings to say she was sick."

"He lied," McGee said obviously.

"But he was right," Abby said. "Ziva didn't show up for work."

McGee shrugged. "So they'd already planned that she wouldn't come in. They could've already known about Yasar being in the country."

"So why didn't they tell Gibbs?" Abby wanted to know. "If a crazy murdering psychopath was after me, I'd tell Gibbs."

"I don't know," McGee said. "The only time Tony used his cell on Wednesday morning was when he got a text message from a number that's not on his contact list."

"What did it say?"

"Burn."

"Burn what?"

"I don't know. That was the whole message."

"The whole message was burn?"

"Yes."

"Did Tony reply?"

"No. Didn't call, didn't text."

"And didn't delete."

They aimed their thinking faces at each other.

"What does burn mean?" Abby wondered.

"Maybe an instruction to start a fire?" McGee tried, starting with the most obvious.

Abby grinned. "Burn, like an STI?"

McGee grimaced and shook his head. "If it was from Ziva, what would it mean? She's from the intelligence world, right? Spies and stuff. What does burn mean to a spy?"

"What about burn notice?" she said. "You know, like that show? When you get kicked out of an agency you get a burn notice. Maybe she got kicked out of Mossad because of something to do with this Yasar guy, and she's had to make a run for it before they kill her."

McGee made a face. "Maybe, but I can't see Tony being okay with her going off alone if that were the case. And I'm pretty sure one of them would've told Gibbs about that."

Abby took a long draw on her Caf-Pow as her eyes drifted to the phone. "What about burn phone? You know, like drug dealers use."

McGee lifted his eyebrows. "A prepaid, untraceable cell phone. Good for conducting secret business anonymously."

He didn't sound completely dismissive of the idea, so Abby continued. "Yeah. If they've been talking to each other on burn phones, that would explain why Tony didn't go full tilt bozo when he heard that Ziva's missing and that Yasar's in the country."

McGee thought it over. "Makes sense. Ziva texted Tony to give him the number where he could reach her."

Abby pulled the keyboard over to her. "What's the number again?"

McGee read the number out and Abby put it into the system. "Okay, it's definitely a burn phone. That text to Tony was the first activity on the SIM. Since then, it's been used three times. Aside from Tony, two other burn phones."

"Can you pull up the others?" McGee asked, even though Abby was already halfway through the task.

"First one has been in use for a couple of months," Abby said. "Has called dozens and dozens of numbers." She pulled up another screen. "The second one has only been in use since Wednesday afternoon." She shot a triumphant smile at him.

"Only three calls made," McGee read. "All to the number that texted Tony."

"First call was under a minute," Abby said. "Second was about a half hour, and the third was five minutes. Ooh, and that call was placed only a few hours ago."

McGee thought through the day's timeline. "That would've been right after our meeting with Jenny, and after I told Tony I had to go through his messages. He left the building."

"He called Ziva to give her a heads up?"

"I guess," McGee said. "But why would he be warning her that we were looking for her. We're on her side."

Abby sucked up some more Caf-Pow. "If Yasar knows Ziva's living in the US now, would he know that she works for us?"

McGee parroted Gibbs' response from when he'd asked that question earlier. "Ziva's position here isn't classified. He could've found that out pretty easily."

Abby turned that over in her head. "Maybe that's why she doesn't want us to look for her."

"Huh?"

"Well, if you were Yasar, and you couldn't find Ziva, wouldn't you check out what her friends were up to?" Abby asked. "In case they led you to her."

It was so obvious that McGee almost slapped his own head. "Yes. I would definitely do that. But if I'm Ziva, I'd still tell Gibbs and the rest of the team. They'd put me in protective custody."

Abby made a face. "What? You don't need protective custody. You're Ziva! You could kill a man with a stapler."

McGee shrugged and continued to play along. "I could, but I'd probably prefer it if it didn't come to that. And I know from first hand experience that NCIS safe houses aren't entirely safe. I had to kill two would-be assassins in one just a couple of weeks ago."

Abby looked thoughtful. "So you'd kill two henchmen to protect a witness, but not a convicted murderer to save yourself?"

McGee didn't have an answer for that. "I'm complicated," he said weakly.

Abby sighed at the non-answer. "So, you find your own safe house and you tell your partner…" She made a face. "Well, I don't know how much you told him, but enough so that he doesn't completely freak out."

"Enough so that he doesn't come looking for me."

"Because Yasar would probably look at your partner for clues first."

"Of course he would," McGee said. "I spend 18 hours a day either with my partner or on the phone to him. Because apparently we share a level of co-dependency that even Mulder and Scully would think is over-the-top."

Abby smacked his shoulder then pointed a stern finger. "Don't talk about yourself with that tone of voice."

McGee smirked and continued. "Under normal circumstances, anybody would be able to find me by tailing Tony. Or Gibbs, or McGee, or Abby."

"And you just don't want to be found right now."

"So, where does that leave us?" McGee asked as he rubbed his face.

"With a whole stinkin' pile of speculation and no hard evidence," Abby replied. "We have nothing to say that the burn phones really belong to Tony and Ziva."

McGee blew out a long breath. "Gibbs isn't going to like this."

* * *

**Hope it was worth the wait. Chapter 6 is up now. **


	7. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: Not mine.**

* * *

Half an hour after their speculation session, McGee and Abby found out just exactly how much Gibbs didn't like the situation when he came down to the lab for a status report.

"What did you find in the emails and…" Gibbs searched his tech-illiterate brain for the right term, but gave up. "Thingamies."

"Nothing that can tell us where Ziva might be," Abby said, then quickly added, "And no evidence that Tony knew about Yasar."

"Doesn't mean he didn't," Gibbs grumbled.

Abby shrugged and spoke without thinking. "No. But…so what?"

Gibbs turned narrowed eyes on her. "Excuse me?" She was _his_ Abby. Not Tony's. Why was she going to Tony's defence?

Abby realised what she'd said and winced internally. But then, instead of taking it back, she steeled herself against the glare. "Ziva didn't do anything wrong, right? We're looking for her because we're worried about her, not because she's a felon on the run. So even if Tony did know exactly what was going on…so what? He's not aiding and abetting."

McGee backed her up when he saw the smoke starting to leak from Gibbs' ears. "Tony probably knew that Ziva was going someplace secret, but I really don't think he knew everything. Maybe not even why she was going."

The glare swung to McGee. "How's that?"

"Well, I've read more communication between them that I would ever care to, and I spend about 80 hours a week three feet from them. I know their partnership. And I do not believe that Tony would have been as calm as he has been over the last few days if he knew someone like Yasar was chasing Ziva."

Gibbs considered that, and damn it, he knew McGee is right.

"Besides," McGee continued when it looked like he had Gibbs' attention, "Tony wouldn't help Ziva hide something like that if he knew, right? He'd tell you."

Realisation slapped Abby in the face. "Oh," she said quietly to herself.

Gibbs and McGee looked at her expectantly, and Abby's eyed widened. She tried to cover her ass.

"Oh. Nothing."

"Give it up, Abby," Gibbs warned.

She shook her head. "It's probably not important."

Gibbs pulled out his Dad voice. "Abby."

This time, her wince showed on her face. "Um…well, Ziva and I had this conversation last week during which it kind of came up that Tony would definitely help Ziva cover up a MOAS if she needed him to."

At Gibbs' blank stare, Abby translated for him. "Mother of all secrets."

Gibbs' face took on the expression of someone fighting to control their skyrocketing blood pressure, before he dismissed it and turned to McGee. "There wasn't anything you could find that would be a clue to where Ziva is?"

"Nothing."

Gibbs didn't believe it. "I want to see those emails."

As intimidated as he was by his boss most days, McGee knew he could not let that happen. Although nothing explicit had been said, the IMs and texts were clear evidence of a very blurry line between personal and professional. If Gibbs read them, McGee could not be sure that he wouldn't split them up. And as tiring as Tony and Ziva could be on some days, McGee couldn't imagine coming to work if one of them wasn't there.

He borrowed some of the backbone Abby had just been using. "Boss, there's really no need. I pulled out everything that could be remotely relevant. If they discussed where she was going, they did it verbally."

Gibbs' eye began to twitch. "Am I hearing this?" he yelled. "You two are still on _my_ team, right?

Abby crossed her arms angrily at what Gibbs was suggesting. That he thought it was him, Abby and McGee against Tony and Ziva. She would not stand for such a split.

"We _all_ are, Gibbs," she said firmly.

"Then when are you gonna start acting like it?" he shot back. "Find me Ziva."

"I don't think she wants to be found, boss," McGee tried to reason. "She knows how to stay off the grid. We should be looking for Yasar."

Gibbs stepped up to McGee, so close their noses were almost touching, and for a horrified second Abby thought he would start swinging punches.

"CIA's all over that, Agent McGee," Gibbs said. "And I don't much care about him. I care about the safety of my team. Of which you are part, for the moment. If you can't find anything useful here, then you get your ass over to David's house and you find me something that is useful."

McGee swallowed. "Yes, boss."

Gibbs stepped back and McGee let out a breath.

"And if either of you see DiNozzo," Gibbs yelled as he left the room, "you tell him I'm looking for him."

* * *

**A much shorter chapter, but you got two in one posting, right? More coming in a few days' time. I'd love some more reviews...**


	8. Chapter 7

**A/N: I know I said at the beginning of the story that I wouldn't make you wait for chapters. Now I've gone and broken that promise. But I've had big, scary, hospital-shaped family dramas to deal with. Plus, a few comments on the last chapter convinced me that this one needed a complete rewrite. So my apologies to you, dear reader, for the wait. But hopefully you'll like what I've done. Plus, it's pretty long. Are we friends again?**

**Disclaimer: Not mine.**

* * *

Tony paced his

apartment that night, full of nervous energy that demanded he do _something_, but unable to decide what. He saw three options: stake out Ziva's apartment and try to catch Yasar poking around; ignore Ziva's warning and out to Long Island tonight; or sit here like the good boy he promised he'd be and watch The Godfather for the 62nd time.

If he went to Ziva's, he'd have to borrow his neighbour's car. A Honda Prius wouldn't raise an eyebrow from nosey neighbours in Ziva's part of town, it wasn't a Government car that would catch the attention of the CIA, and it certainly wouldn't stand out to Gibbs as the kind of car that Tony would be behind the wheel of. He could potentially sit on the street all night without being busted by any of the likely suspects, but the downside was that he'd actually have to sit on the street all night. In the cold, without Ziva for company, and without his iPod.

His preferred option would be to drive out to his dad's place right now and stand guard at the door with a shotgun. Yeah, that'd make him feel like some kind of hero coming to the rescue of the damsel in distress. But Ziva David was no blushing princess in need of saving, and he wouldn't put it past her to shoot him in the arm if she caught sight of him before Yasar was caught.

So that left him to sit at home and stew. Despite his considerable worry over the situation, there was more than a little part of him that was angry with her. Asking for his help was one thing. Of course he'd help her, even if it was to move a body. But in return he expected her to read him in on what was going on, especially when it was such a big deal. He was her partner, and he thought her best friend. Why the hell didn't she tell him? Why didn't she trust him? Why would she go off alone and allow him to hear it all from the Director of NCIS?

His unconscious mind provided an answer when the angry words he'd shared with Gibbs before he left work that afternoon popped into his head. After withstanding another 20 minutes of interrogation, Tony had finally offered his mentor a piece of truth.

"_If I had known about Yasar, don't you think I would have chained myself to her?"_

He'd struggled to keep from yelling, not wanting to make a bad situation even worse. But instead of admitting that Tony might have a point, Gibbs had only rolled his eyes with a sting that would put the efforts of any 13-year-old girl to shame. The action had pissed Tony off to no end, but maybe it was Gibbs who had the point. Maybe Ziva considered trusting him with such information as ridiculous an idea as Gibbs obviously did.

He considered that for a long, ugly moment before firmly dismissing it. He truly believed that Ziva had her reasons for not telling him the whole story. Even though he couldn't work them out, he knew without a doubt that they had nothing to do with her thinking he wasn't good enough. If anyone had faith in him right now, Ziva did. And that meant he had to stick to the plan until Yasar was caught.

He was en route to the kitchen to grab a beer that would help him play the waiting game when there was a knock on his door. He should have expected it, he supposed, but he still let out a quiet expletive when he saw Gibbs through the peep hole. Gibbs obviously had more to get off his chest. Tony didn't mind—he had a few choice words to say in return.

He opened the door to piercing blue eyes and a tight jaw, and then made a show out of swinging the door right open and gesturing inside with his arm.

"Okay, come on in and satisfy your curiosity," Tony said. "But I'm telling you, she's not here."

He left Gibbs standing in the doorway and continued to the kitchen to grab a long neck from the fridge. Instead of heading straight to the bathroom to look for Ziva's toothbrush like Tony expected him to, Gibbs followed him and took up position on the other side of the kitchen island. Tony kept his poker face in tact and tipped his bottle towards Gibbs.

"Beer?"

The offer wasn't meant to be particularly hospitable, and Gibbs knew it. He shook his head and looked at his senior agent with what Tony had come to think of over the years as his Disappointed Dad expression. It was only fitting that Tony responded with his Petulant Son face.

"What are you doing, Tony?" Gibbs finally asked on a sigh, his tone deceptively gentle.

Tony took a long draw from the bottle then held it up to his face. "Drinking Corona with lemon. It's a little girly, I guess. But it helps me pretend I'm on vacation in Mexico."

Gibbs had dealt with Tony's habit of deflection through humour for longer than he could remember, and found it easy to ignore. "You can't lie to me, Tony. I know you too well."

"Yeah? What am I lying about?"

"Knowing where Ziva is."

Tony sighed and put the bottle down. "What if I do, Gibbs? Why are you making it out to be a bad thing? We already know that she's not where she's supposed to be, right? So shouldn't the thought that one of your team knows where she is be on comfort?"

Gibbs raised an eyebrow. "You're still on my team, are you?"

Tony clenched his jaw at the sting of his words. After everything they'd been through, would Gibbs really dismiss him so easily? "You're saying you don't want me there?"

Gibbs jammed his hands into his pockets so that he wouldn't jump forward and strangle the guy. "You're a pain in the ass, DiNozzo," he stated. "But yeah, I want you there. And I want you to act like you want to be there."

Tony narrowed his eyes. "Are you questioning my loyalty?"

"This week?" Gibbs challenged.

Tony's cheeks flushed with anger at being doubted, and he pulled himself up to full height to let fly with everything he'd bottled up over the years. "I have been your faithful Collie dog for _nine_ _years_. I've outlasted two wives. I have followed your hunches, I have defended your methods to rank and file. I have memorised every damn rule and followed them to the letter."

Gibbs cocked his head to the side and sent him a look of disbelief that hit Tony's so-raw-it-was-bloody nerve. Stupid Rule 12.

"To the _letter_," Tony repeated angrily. "I've guarded your six, I've managed your moods, and done all the leg work to prove your famous gut right."

"That's how it works, DiNozzo," Gibbs cut in, his voice rising to match Tony's. "I'm your boss, I give you orders."

"Do you really think I still need them?"

"I don't," Gibbs replied honestly, then turned it back on him. "You think you'd do better with your own team?"

It was tempting, so tempting, to tell him that the Director had thought as much. But relying on other people's opinions wouldn't get him anywhere with Gibbs. "Better? No," he replied haltingly. "But maybe just as good."

It wasn't the answer Gibbs had been expecting. Honestly, deep down in his gut, he knew that Tony _would_ do better, if given the time. But he didn't know that Tony knew it, and suddenly his safety net for almost a decade was looking like it might give way. His throat tightened, but he swallowed it away and took a gamble.

"Then why don't you request one?" He knew the thought had probably already occurred to Tony, and suddenly he regretted being so harsh this week. He may have been unwittingly driving his best agent away. But if that was the case, he wanted to know now.

"Because I'm happy where I am," Tony replied, the certainty in his voice at once surprising and reassuring his boss.

Gibbs took a millisecond to acknowledge the relief in his gut before slipping back into the hardass role Tony would understand. "My team, my rules, my orders. You know that."

Tony gave him a cynical smile as he slumped back against the kitchen counter. "And that's what this is all about, right?" he challenged. "It's not about Ziva and where she is. It's about you feeling like you've lost control of me. You're pissed because you think I moved on something without you ordering me to first. Because you think Ziva came to me for help instead of you. Because Jenny has shown faith in me. Because you don't feel like top dog on this."

Gibbs kept his mouth shut, unnerved and somewhat ashamed by how close Tony was actually getting to the truth. Jesus, maybe they two of them really did need some time apart.

"You don't think I'm good enough to watch my partner's back, let alone run my own team," Tony accused. "And you're struggling with the fact that other people might be confident in my ability to do a good job. That people might think I'm as good as you."

As close as he was getting before, Tony was now miles from the truth, and Gibbs seized on it. "Where do you get this crap?" he snapped. "Of course I want you to be as good as me. I don't want to pull you down. I want you to be the best you can be."

"Just as long as people don't come to me for help independent of you," Tony bitched.

Gibbs heaved a sigh and wondered how Tony let himself get away with being so oblivious when it came to Ziva.

"Ziva would have gone to you because she thinks you're the soft touch, Tony," Gibbs told him bluntly. "And when it comes to her, you are. Of course you'd do anything she asked you to. She trained you that way."

Tony rolled his eyes, then rubbed his lower back. "Yeah, I have this crick in my back from being wrapped around her little finger all the time."

Gibbs looked at him seriously, and said what he'd wanted to say for a while. "Your feelings for her cloud your judgement, Tony."

Tony's expression darkened as Gibbs hit that nerve again. "Whatever feelings I may or may not have do not prevent me from questioning her, or fighting with her, or telling her when I think she's wrong," he said firmly. "Just like it doesn't stop me from trusting her judgement. And it doesn't make me oblivious to the fact that sometimes she tries to manipulate me. I'm not stupid."

They held gazes as they both took a breath and tried to find their footing in a conversation that was long overdue.

"We all manipulate each other all the time," Tony said. "We're doing it to each other right now. It's how things get done. What the hell does it matter?"

"It matters when manipulation starts pitting this team against each other," Gibbs shot back. "When it brings about lying and secrets. You say you don't want to leave this team for your own, but in the last few days you haven't been acting like it."

Tony resisted the urge to stamp his foot and scream. _He_ hadn't been acting like it? What about Gibbs' recent adventures in instant message land? "Why? Because it looks to you that I made a decision without asking for your advice? That's what _you_ trained me to do, Gibbs. You trained me to follow my gut. To trust in my partner. To trust in myself. You can't turn around and add a caveat that I can only do it if you approve."

"You can make all the decisions you want," Gibbs argued. "But you make them in the best interests of this team."

Tony frowned. "And helping Ziva, if that's what I'm actually doing, somehow _isn't_ in the best interests of this team?"

"Of course it is," Gibbs fumed, his voice beginning to rise again. "That's exactly what I want to do. But lying to me about it isn't. Playing by your own rules—"

"You've been playing by your own rules since the day I met you!" Tony cut in. "There's about 40 of them. And by the way, which is the one that says it's okay to hack in to your employees' email and phone and instant messages on a hunch that they're doing something completely _not_ illegal?"

Gibbs had the grace to avert his eyes. The photos of Yasar's victims, the news of Ziva not being where she was supposed to be and his hurt at his protégé lying to his face and siding with someone else had caused him to invade Tony's privacy, and he wasn't proud of it. But at the time, his worry had made it seem like a completely legitimate action.

Tony noticed the change in him, but instead of letting it go at a bowed head and slumped shoulders, he forced the issue.

"You know, I have to disagree with one of your rules. Apologising doesn't make you weak. It makes you human." It was preachy and Tony knew it, but Gibbs had totally crossed the line. And since he was so gung-ho about putting the team first and not doing anything to pit them against each other, Tony thought it was only fair that Gibbs recognise the impact his own actions had.

Gibbs raised his head and looked Tony in the eye. "I'm sorry," he said, honestly. "I just need to know that she's safe. That this guy can't get at her."

Tony rubbed his head, feeling the beginnings of a cracking headache behind his eyes. There would be no winning this argument for either of them. They were just running in circles of arguments they should have had a hundred years ago. All he could do was be honest—mostly.

"Assuming I know the answer," he said on a sigh, wincing internally at the lie, "why would you think I would put her anywhere I wasn't 110 per cent sure about?"

They stared at each other quietly again, Tony's heart showing in his eyes and Gibbs coming to realise that if nothing else Tony had said had been the truth, that one statement certainly was.

"I know you would," Gibbs said, backing right down from the fight. "I just can't lose another daughter."

The sudden crack in Gibbs' voice almost caused Tony's knees to give out, but he thought he finally understood. Gibbs loved Ziva like he loved Abby, like he'd loved Kate. Almost like he'd loved Kelly. The guy's heart kept being broken open by daughters he'd dared to think of as his own. And there were only so many breaks he could take. The strain of it already showed in his face every day.

Tony stepped closer to him and looked his in the eye. "Yasar won't get her, Gibbs," he vowed. "Trust me on that. Believe I would do anything to keep her safe."

Gibbs took a deep breath, preparing to let it go, and finally nodded. Whatever this operation was, he accepted that it was under Tony's capable control. "Okay."

Tony blew out a relieved breath and, now that the storm had passed, he once again tipped his beer in Gibbs' direction. "Drink?"

Gibbs shook his head, intending to take his leave. But Tony's ringing cell phone interrupted his exit. Tony pulled his regular cell out of his pocket and checked caller ID.

"Abby," he told Gibbs, and flipped the phone open. "Hey, Abs. What's up?"

While Tony took the call, Gibbs' eyes drifted around the apartment. From his position in the kitchen, he could see through to the living room. He was surprised to see the coffee table was clear save for two remotes, and the couch didn't have so much as a blanket strewn across it. There weren't any shoes to trip over, stacks of magazines to knock over, or takeout containers to step in. The rug was vacuumed and the floors polished, there wasn't even any dust on the bookshelf.

He returned his attention to the kitchen, which looked like it had been cleaned with actual cleaning products. There wasn't a single glass on the drying rack, there was fresh fruit—fruit!—in a bowl on the counter, and the only beer bottle Gibbs could see was the one in Tony's hand. He had never seen Tony's apartment this clean. But almost as soon as he started wondering about the change, his investigator's mind supplied the answer: Ziva wouldn't spend five minutes in this apartment if Tony left it in the state it used to be in. He was creating a space for her that she'd be comfortable in.

The kid Gibbs had met so long ago, who measured his worth by notches on his bedpost and never spared a thought for the future, had changed his life and goals for a woman who was possibly the antithesis of every fantasy Tony'd ever had. And Gibbs honestly didn't think he could kick Tony's ass for it.

"I promise we're playing nice," he heard Tony say. "We will both front up to work tomorrow without bruising or limps or in any way incapacitated."

The corner of Gibbs' mouth pulled up as Tony rolled his eyes good naturedly at him. It gave him hope that their friendship wasn't completely lost after this week.

"I'll talk to you tomorrow," Tony told her, and hung up. "Abby says hi."

Gibbs smirked. "I'm going to go." He hesitated before adding, "Call me if you need anything."

Tony took the comment for what it was; an attempt at peace rather than a comment of Tony's abilities. He nodded. "Thanks for dropping by."

Gibbs took in his amused grin and shook his head at the guy's ability to go from deadly serious to flippant in a heartbeat. He held up a hand in an old man wave and turned for the door.

"Gibbs?"

He turned back again, and saw that Tony was back to serious.

"You have to deal with Kate."

Gibbs flinched, but assumed Tony had misspoken. "Ziva."

But Tony shook his head. "No, Kate."

Gibbs felt his throat close and recalled his comment in Jenny's office that morning. Another moment to be ashamed of. "I don't blame you for her, Tony."

Tony nodded, but his expression didn't change. "You shouldn't blame yourself, either."

In his heart, Gibbs knew Tony was right. But it was a long road to travel, and he was too tired to start tonight. "I'll see you tomorrow."

After he'd left, Tony dragged himself into the living room and fell onto the couch. So they'd reached a truce, of sorts, and that would do for now. All was not forgiven, and Tony wasn't entirely sure that their working relationship would ever be the same again. But maybe that wouldn't be so bad. Maybe Gibbs would think harder about the way he treated his dedicated agents, and maybe Tony wouldn't feel so stymied in his role. Maybe, in the end, it would all be for the best.

Assuming, of course, that they caught Yasar before he got anywhere near Ziva.

**

* * *

OMFG, that chapter almost killed me. I need a drink. Can I get you anything while I'm up?**


	9. Chapter 8

**A/N: Thanks for all your drinks orders. I slipped the waiter $20 to keep them coming all night.  
Season opener? Rocked. Weatherly made that thing his bitch.  
Disclaimer: Not mine.**

* * *

Director Shepard's bat signal went out after lunch the next day, and Tony made it up to her office in record time. He paused by Cynthia's desk to let her know he'd arrived, but Cynthia barely glanced at him before waving at him to go through.

Jenny was sitting at her desk with an inscrutable look when he entered, and for a moment Tony panicked that she was about to deliver bad news: the CIA had failed, Yasar had found Ziva, and now she was on a slab with a Y incision down her chest. He had to clear his throat before speaking.

"Director?"

"Take a seat, Tony."

Tony looked at the chair in front of her desk blankly. Take a seat? Why would he need to be sitting? Sitting meant bad news. Sitting meant they were going to talk about this for a while. Standing was much better. It was convenient for jumping up and down, like you did when you got good news.

Jenny eyed him, wondering why he suddenly looked so pale. "Agent DiNozzo?"

"What happened?" he wanted to know. Well, not really. Not if it was bad.

Jenny leant forward on her elbows, and let him have his way. "Yasar is in custody as of an hour ago."

Tony raised an eyebrow. That wasn't completely bad news. "Who found him?"

"The CIA, acting on an anonymous tip."

Tony couldn't work out who would provide an anonymous tip when there hadn't been any media coverage of the situation, but that wasn't what concerned him most right now. "Where was he?"

Jenny paused before replying. "On the street outside your apartment."

Tony blinked in surprise. Who the hell knew that Yasar would be outside his apartment?

_Ziva_, he thought. Or her contact, who first alerted her to Yasar being in the country. Did that mean he had been under surveillance from Ziva's shadowy henchmen this whole time, in case Yasar started following him?

He pulled out the visitor's chair and sat heavily. "She had a tail on me," he said softly to himself.

"It's what I'd do in her situation," Jenny told him with a knowing look. "Yasar is now in CIA custody. And they'll want to talk to you at your earliest convenience."

Tony looked up at her slowly. "Yeah," he drew out. "That might not happen for a day or two."

Jenny had her poker face on. "Well, I certainly don't know where you intend to go after this meeting, Agent DiNozzo, so I will not be in the position to inform the CIA where they can find you."

A slow smile broke across Tony's face. He didn't know why she was bending the rules for him—maybe because she knew what it was like to have a partner you were so emotionally invested in—but he wasn't exactly going to call her on it. "Have you told Gibbs?"

"Not yet. But I intend to in about the amount of time it takes to walk from here to the parking garage. I will also inform him that I've briefed you on recent developments."

Tony quickly stood and shot her one of his most charming smiles. "Don't be alarmed if you go home tonight and find two dozen orchids on your doorstep."

Jenny cracked a smile, then gestured at the door with her chin. "You should get going."

"Thank you, Director."

"You're welcome, Agent DiNozzo."

Tony didn't waste time getting down to the parking garage and into his car. He did a quick visual sweep of the area for Gibbs or any other hangers on, then got out of there as quick as he could without drawing attention to himself. He'd make a very quick stop at his place and order some flowers for Jenny before driving out to Long Island. If traffic was good, he could get there around dinner time. And then he'd give Ziva a piece of his mind.

* * *

Tony's heart was in his throat as he crawled up the long driveway to his dad's house that night. Whether it was the stress and lingering anger of the last few days, anxiousness to see Ziva again, or the sight of the house that he'd never intended to go back to, he wasn't sure. They were all as likely as each other.

As he'd expected, all the lights were off and there was no indication that anyone was home. He parked beside the grand Victorian rather than in the driveway, so that the car wouldn't be immediately seen by neighbours, and then took his time getting out and gathering the bag of groceries he'd picked up on his way. He rolled his eyes at himself for the purchase. Tony didn't cook, as a rule, except when he was angry—a trait he had picked up from his father in this very house. He didn't like to admit to sharing much with his dad, but given the other habits he could have picked up, Angry Cooking was fairly innocuous.

Ziva had his keys so he had to knock, and a knot formed in his stomach while he waited for her to open the door. He honestly didn't have a clue when he'd say when he saw her. He was caught between wanting to grab her and hug her and forget everything he'd put up with in the last few days, and yelling at her until he'd exhausted all his anxiety and anger. By the time he heard the locks tumble on the other side of the door, he was still without a plan of action.

Ziva peeked around the edge of the door at him, before opening it wider and stepping aside. She looked up at him with warm eyes and the hint of a smile—an expression that usually gave Tony a hit of endorphins, simply because he knew what it meant. When Ziva was pleased to see you, she didn't go on about it. She didn't shriek and jump into your arms, or hug you till your lips went blue. Instead, she gave you the barest of smiles and let her eyes speak. Tony had been on the receiving end of that look with increasing frequency of late. He knew that getting one in the morning meant good things for the rest of the day. But tonight? Tonight it pissed him off.

He gave her a weak smile as he passed her and walked into the house, but still couldn't think of anything to say. He was at a loss over where to begin.

Ziva knew that mood. He had it a lot around suspects he tolerated only because they were useful for the case. She closed the door and locked it, then cleared her throat.

"You are upset."

Tony paused in the hallway, and could not help turning an incredulous stare on her. Talk about stating the obvious. He turned again and headed for the dimly lit kitchen, and Ziva followed him. Maybe she was really, really sorry for lying, or maybe she'd gone a bit crazy without having anyone to talk to for three days. Either way, the words started tumbling out of her mouth so fast that Tony had to wonder if there was a Caf-Pow machine somewhere in Southampton.

"Your reaction right now is _exactly_ the reason I didn't go into all the details," she started, her voice full of conviction. "If you knew Yasar was after me, you would not have let me go off alone. You would have _insisted_ on coming with me, even though I am perfectly capable of handling myself."

If it was supposed to be an apology, Tony thought she couldn't have sucked more at it. But he kept his mouth shut and unloaded the grocery bag, pausing to grab a knife from the knife block. He wanted to see if she could talk her way out of it.

"With both of us missing," she continued, when it was clear that he wasn't going to speak, let alone look at her, "it would have brought attention to the situation sooner. Gibbs would have been all over it from day one, and it may have exposed me too soon. But I couldn't go without telling you. Because I knew you would have been even more upset if I'd gone without a word and then you found out about Yasar."

She stood on the opposite side of the kitchen island as Tony began chopping carrots, and searched his face for any sign that he was listening to what she was saying. It was unusual for Tony to be quiet for so long, to say the least, and Ziva's heart started pounding in panic. Just how much of a mess had she made?

"Are you going to give me the silent treatment all night?" she challenged, resorting to old habits when she was unsure of how to deal with new situations.

Tony clenched his jaw and shook his head at the chopping board. She wanted a conversation? Fine.

"Here's the photo of the man who's after Ziva," he began, playing the part of Jenny Shepard. "And here are some photos of the women he killed. See how expertly he's sliced away this girl's face while she hung from the ceiling? We think he did that right after he raped her. Agent DiNozzo, are you sure you don't know where your partner is?" He switched back to his own voice. "No, Director, I'm afraid I don't have a clue."

"Yeah you do, DiNozzo," he continued, this time imitating Gibbs' gruff tone. "You knew all about this and let it happen. I'm gonna loose another agent because of you." Again, he switched back to his own voice to argue the point. "I don't know what you're talking about, Gibbs. If I'd known this guy was after her, don't you think I would have chained myself to her?"

Ziva closed her eyes in shame, starting to get an idea of what the last few days had been like. He hadn't just told a few white lies to cover her ass. He'd lied to the faces of people who cared about him. Who cared about her. And that was low.

"Tony," she started, apology in her tone. But Tony wasn't close to shutting up now.

"Tony, Tony! Gibbs said that Ziva's missing and a murdering psychopath is after her, but you won't help. Don't you care?" He shook his head. "Of course I care, Abby. I'm terrified over here."

"Tony, why are there all these IMs between you and Ziva where you're conspiring to commit fraud on accident reports?" He dropped 'McGee's higher tone. "Stay out of it, McNosy. Stick to finding evidence that I knew about Ziva's murdering psychopath so Gibbs can chew me out some more."

Ziva felt tears sting her eyes, and she impulsively moved around behind him to press herself against his back and rest her forehead between his shoulder blades. It seemed like such a bold move for them—as close as they were, they rarely touched. But now she was desperate to touch him, to try to calm him and comfort him. To make him understand how sorry she was for asking him to lie to his family.

Tony tensed at her unexpected touch, but kept up his dinner theatre performance. "Tony, you do not need to worry about me. This is a minor issue." He dropped the slight accent. "Thanks, Ziva. I'll sure keep that in mind."

"Jesus, Tony, didn't you see the look on her face when she asked you for help the other night? Your Spidey Sense knew it was something big, but you just let it go." This time, he continued on in his own voice. "Shut up, Tony. You don't know what it's like to say 'no' to her."

"I'm sorry," Ziva told him softly. Screw Gibbs' rules. She wasn't weak for apologising. She was weak for doing this to him in the first place.

"That's all I have in my head right now, Ziva," he told her, roughly. "If you don't like it, I suggest you take the silent treatment."

She moved around beside him to look up at him, and the knowledge that she'd put that hurt, tense expression on his face made her eyes burn. "I'm sorry," told him again, never meaning the words more.

Tony resumed chopping without looking at her. "I know you're a superhero, and that when it comes down to it you don't really need my help for anything." He paused to swallow the lump in his throat that was beginning to weaken his voice. "But I am your partner, and you're stuck with me for the time being. And keeping me in the dark, no matter what you think my reaction will be, is not okay. If someone's going to take you down, I should at least get the chance to get a few shots in."

"Of course I need you," Ziva insisted, realising even as she said the words how much she meant them. "And I understand that, as my partner, you want to protect me. I understand it because that's exactly what _I_ did by not telling you about Yasar."

"You got in first," he said, sardonically.

"Yes."

Tony snorted. "Maybe we shouldn't be partners anymore if this is the way we resort to protecting each other."

Ziva took a step back as her mouth fell open in shock and hurt, and then punched him in the arm—hard enough to hurt, but not enough to incapacitate. Even still, the knife fell out of Tony's hand and clattered onto the marble bench top, and Tony looked up at her with an expression to mirror hers.

"_Ow_!"

Ziva shoved a threatening finger in his face. "Take it back," she demanded.

Tony held his throbbing arm. "What if I don't? Are you going to use a cheese grater on me?"

"I just might," she threatened. "Don't say that to me if you don't mean it, Tony. And if you do mean it—"

"You scared the shit out of me, Ziva!" Tony finally exploded, stepping into her space and barely resisting the urge to shake her. "Some guy's crossing countries to get at you, to rape you, to torture you, to kill you, and you don't tell me? What the _fuck_ is up with that?"

"I couldn't tell you!" she yelled back, finally being honest with him. "I couldn't say the words to you, Tony. I couldn't bear to see the look on your face. The look you have now. That I have done this to you and gotten you involved…"

She covered her face with her hands and forced a deep breath into her lungs. "He was outside your apartment, and I might as well have taken him there myself. And all the ones who will come after him. I've done so many bad things, and they will keep coming back to bite me. It's not fair that they bite you, too."

Tony went silent again as he watched her pace the kitchen. Ziva rarely lost composure like this, was rarely this honest and open. He just wished it hadn't taken the events of the last few days to get it out of her.

"None of this is your fault," Ziva stated, almost to herself. "You did not ask for a partner with a target on her back from scores of people with vendettas. You shouldn't have to deal with my mistakes. So maybe we shouldn't be partners. Because one day you might be in the line of fire because of me, and I can't handle…" Her voice broke, and she shook her head tightly. "Maybe I should go back to Israel."

Fear that she might mean it tore the words from his mouth. "If you go to Israel, I'm going to come after you and drag you back here, I swear to God," he vowed.

Ziva stopped pacing and looked up at him, and he saw her chin shake before she asked, "Even if that's where I want to be?"

It felt like all the air left the room as Tony stared back at her, terrified that a single wrong word from him could make up her mind to get on a plane tomorrow. "Is it?"

She hesitated just long enough to make him doubt her. "That is not an easy question to answer."

Tony remembered her saying the same thing on the phone a few days ago, and wondered why everything was suddenly so difficult for her to answer. What the hell had happened in her life lately that made her so unsure?

"What's waiting for you there, Ziva?" he challenged. "Your asshole dad who uses you as his personal weapon, friends you don't talk to anymore, and a job that'll get you killed before you're 40."

Ziva crossed her arms tightly over her chest. "Yes, Tony. That certainly covers everything," she said sarcastically.

He didn't think through his next words. "Oh, right. I forgot about the boyfriend."

Ziva's eyes flashed, and for a second he thought she was going to punch him properly. "Do not bring that up, Tony," she said warningly. "Not unless you are truly ready to go there."

For not the first time, Tony got the distinct impression that they were talking about two different things. "Go where?"

The fire in her eyes grew, but Tony wasn't at all prepared when she suddenly lunged forward, grabbed him almost violently by the shirt and pulled him into a hot, hard kiss. The intensity of it almost took his breath away and the heat coming off her burned his cheeks and mouth like a brand. But he barely had time to wrap his arms around her, to show her just how much he didn't want her to go home, before she ended it.

"I left him for _you_," she hissed, her dark eyes burning with passion just inches from his. "It was _my_ choice to return to the US, not my father's. I came back for _you_. Not Gibbs, not the rest of them. _You_, Tony. And you still don't get it."

To punctuate the statement, Ziva shoved him back—hard—and spun to walk away from him. And in that split second, Tony finally did understand. While he'd spend four years telling himself not to touch her, not to fall for her, not to love her, Ziva had spent four years putting herself further and further out there for him. But unless he was very much mistaken, she'd just decided to give up.

The sight of her walking away made his lying heart burn, and pushed him into action. He took two big strides to catch up, spun her by her wrist and shoved her back against the wall.

"I get it," he told her firmly, and the sudden rush of adrenaline pushed the rest out of his mouth. "I just spent a week lying to the man I think of as my father _because_ I get it. _Because_ I want you. _Because_ I love you. I wouldn't do that for anyone else."

There. It was out there. He couldn't take it back and he couldn't pretend he hadn't worked it out yet. He watched her, his face just inches from hers, as her eyes fluttered shut and she took a shallow, shuddering breath.

_Please don't say no,_ he silently begged her. _Please love me back. Please don't give up now._

It took forever for her to open her eyes again, to look at him with clear intent. With eyes full of unashamed desire and a promise that made him shake. And he knew right there, right from that look, that this was it. These eyes, this face, this woman. This was his future.

"I love you," he said again, and then brought his mouth down on hers before she could tell him no.

Although Ziva's newfound resolve was strong, it was none the less demolished by those three life-changing words spoken by this one man. He'd said to her once that the heart wants what it wants. Right now, and for the longest time, Ziva's heart just wanted him. So she kissed him back with all her desire, all her love, all her fear and anger, and had faith that somehow they'd be able to make it work.

**

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**

**Aaand scene. Sorry to those who were after a big sweaty love scene. I had intended to write one, but I don't think it suits the tone of the rest of the story. I'll make it up to you in a one-shot some other time.**

**I'm a complete idiot. As pointed out to me, the CIA wouldn't be involved in a case like this on US soil. It'd be the FBI. I've watched more than enough TV to know that. Head slaps to me. But because I mentioned the CIA's involvement a few chapters ago, I'm leaving it with them.**

**One more thing. There's a Tony line in here that's similar to a Tony line in the season opener. But I swear I wrote mine about two months ago. Do I win some kind of prize for that?**

**Reviews make my day…**


	10. Chapter 9

**A/N: This is the last chapter (boo!) so thanks to you all for getting this far with me, and thank you thank you thank you for all the wonderful and helpful reviews. Love taps all round (yay!).  
Again, there's a Ziva line in here that is similar to a Tony line from the premiere. And again, I wrote it about two months ago. Seriously, what do I win? Do I get Weatherly? Can I order him with shorter hair?  
Disclaimer: Not mine. **

* * *

Tony had no idea what time it was when he woke, but figured that Ziva's continued presence beside him meant it was somewhere before 5am. Usually that meant that he would roll over and try to get in a few more special agent dreams. But this morning he was content to just lie there in silence, snuggled deep into his childhood bed and wrapped around his partner. He didn't care that his arm under her neck was completely devoid of feeling, or that the rest of his body was pleasantly sore. In fact, his aching muscles were enough to bring a contented smile to his face.

He drew his lips gently back and forth over the back of her shoulder as he assessed the state of affairs. Right now, he figured he should be feeling some panic. Maybe a dash of guilt. Perhaps the urge to employ his superior disentanglement skills and slip silently out the door. But he didn't. In fact, the only panic he felt was at what his lack of panic actually meant: that this was what he wanted his life to be. Ziva's partner, professionally and personally, forever and ever, amen. He didn't have a clue as to how the hell they'd be able to balance it, but he was confident that they'd work it out. Hopefully without the use of weapons, but with Ziva, you never could tell.

Beside him, Ziva took a deep breath and a moment later he felt her roll onto her back. He slowly opened his eyes to find her looking at him across the pillow, and at that first glimpse of her, Tony just about died at how much he adored her. Since meeting her, he'd kept finding new favourite Zivas. Ziva kicking ass, Ziva teasing him, Ziva messing up idioms, Ziva in running gear, Ziva in evening gear, Ziva rising above him and screaming his name in bliss. But no, hands down, this was definitely his favourite version of her: hair dishevelled, skin rosy and soft, lips swollen, eyes hooded, smiling in content, and—_Oh my God_—stretching the length of her body right against him.

Before the thought had formed, Tony stretched his neck to capture her lips for their first kiss of the day, and Ziva hummed in reply. _Good sign. Excellent sign_. She rolled again, towards him, and slid her leg between his as he ran his hand up her back.

"You're still here," she said, her voice at half strength.

He brushed his lips against hers. "My arm is trapped and I couldn't bring myself to gnaw it off."

Ziva smirked before turning her head to kiss, then nip his arm under her neck. Then she rolled one more time, bringing her body to rest on top of his and finally freeing his arm. The sudden rush of blood back into the limb caused a dull ache, but her mouth on his collarbone made it easy to ignore.

He closed his eyes and stroked her thigh—_How can she possibly be so soft?_—revelling in her ministrations and her warm weight on his chest until an absurd though occurred to him, and he laughed.

Ziva drew back. "What?"

He opened his eyes and her warning look brought a smile to his face. "I was just giving my 12-year-old self a high five. I always knew I'd have a beautiful woman in this bed one day."

Ziva rolled her eyes even as she smirked. "High five, 12-year-old Tony," she deadpanned.

"Rad!" Tony telegraphed.

"You're not going to make me climb out the window when I leave, are you?"

He pretended to weigh it up. "Maybe. It's a big drop to the ground, though, and I can't have you breaking a leg right now. I have plans for them."

Ziva ran her hand down his chest, and lower, while her mouth returned to his neck. He groaned and cradled the back of her head.

"You want to pick another of Gibbs' rules to break today?"

Her head popped up once again. "Never, _ever_ say the 'G' word when we're naked," she warned him.

He grinned as his hands ran over her butt. "Can I say the 'M' word?"

She gave him a smile in response that both turned him on and terrified him. "You can say 'mercy' all you want, Tony."

He laughed and opened his mouth to say more, but she slapped a hand over his lips. "Do you always talk so much when someone is trying to have sex with you?"

The corners of his eyes crinkled as he smiled under her hand, and he shook his head.

Ziva removed her hands and replaced it momentarily with her mouth. "Then stop talking."

* * *

An hour after Tony dropped her home, Ziva was riding the elevator up to the bullpen and working on getting her breathing under control. She had no doubt that Gibbs would be angry, not to mention Jenny, McGee and Abby, if Tony's retelling of the situation the night before was accurate. They had every right to be, she knew. And while Abby and McGee would forgive her if she was just honest with them, she wasn't so sure about Gibbs. The man could be…prickly.

The elevator pinged on their floor, and Ziva almost jumped when the doors opened to reveal Gibbs standing on the other side. She heard Abby's voice in her head, putting it down to superpowers, and Ziva had to wonder (not for the first time) if she was right.

"Gibbs," she got out, before he stepped into the elevator and backed her up against the wall. They held gazes as the doors closed behind them, and Gibbs somehow managed to hit the emergency break with a wild stab of his finger. Ziva swallowed.

"Why didn't you come to me?" he asked her straight up, his voice tight but not as furious as she'd expected. His eyes were hard, but Ziva knew it stemmed from his worry for her. And perhaps some stinging jealousy that she went to his protégé instead of the master.

She gave him the answer he probably expected. "I would have preferred to not go to anyone. But if I didn't tell him, if I left without a word and then you all heard about Yasar…" She trailed off, and gave him a look that said everything. She couldn't bring herself to knowingly let Tony worry like she knew he would.

Gibbs stepped off a little now that he'd got her to say it. "Why did you run though, Ziva? It's not like you to turn tail."

She didn't know if he was baiting her, but she kept her cool anyway. "I do not wish to be what I was," she told him. "I have already taken too many lives. I am an investigator, not an assassin."

She saw understanding in his face, but also warning. "I can't have you hesitate, Ziva. When push comes to shove and you need to take a shot, I can't have a member of my team have a crisis of conscience."

"I will not hesitate to protect this team," she told him firmly. "Do not mistake my reluctance for inability. If Yasar had found me, I would have eliminated him. But I did not want to be in a situation where I had to make that choice."

Gibbs heard the words, and didn't doubt her devotion to the team. But her words about Yasar didn't ring true. He leaned closer again, but this time in compassion. "You're afraid of him."

She held his gaze for the longest time, until finally he saw a crack. "He crossed continents to get at me," she said breathlessly, as if holding back her fear.

She had put voice to the thought that had been rattling in Gibbs' head for the last few days, and he felt a wave of protectiveness for her. "You should have come to me," he said again, far more gently this time.

Ziva swallowed back her vulnerability. "If you have to tell someone, only tell one person," she recited. "And I had to tell _him_. I can live with you worrying about me better than Tony worrying about me."

Gibbs heaved a sigh. He knew she was just being honest, and that was the problem. "Ziva, I can't have you two exclude me from things. That's not how this team works."

She nodded like she understood, but Gibbs couldn't help but think that the closer Ziva and Tony got—and they moved inches every day—the more and more he'd find himself on the sidelines. He'd seen it coming, and mostly he'd kept his mouth shut. But if the last two days had told him anything, it was that things had come to a head and he couldn't ignore them anymore.

He found his best caring but firm Dad voice. "You two have got to stop this, Ziva."

He held his breath as he waited for her reaction, and as soon as he saw her chin rise defiantly, he knew it was already too late.

"Can't," she told him firmly, without apology. "Won't."

Gibbs knew his argument would be completely wasted, that they'd probably been past the point of simply telling them 'no' for a year or more. But he still had to make a token protest. "The rule exists for a reason."

"And I agree with it, in principle," Ziva replied. She dropped his gaze for a moment as she struggled with how much to tell him. How open could she be here without getting herself or Tony fired? "It is not simply a crush," she told him softly.

Of course Gibbs knew that, but it was still a surprise to hear one of them admit it. And that alone was enough to tell him that they'd stopped inching towards each other and were now well and truly attached. Ziva was potentially risking her career now, and was certainly defying authority. The woman he knew would not do either simply for entertainment value. Nor would Tony.

And so Gibbs did the only thing he could: he caved. "Damn it, Ziva," he sighed, with no real malice as the dad in him put his arm around her shoulders.

Ziva quickly leaned into his side, accepting his embrace and attempt at peace. "I tried to dislike him," she told him honestly.

Gibbs smirked against the top of her head. Yeah, he definitely believed that. To most women, Tony DiNozzo was like catnip. But he could imagine that the proud, tough-as-nails Ziva David would have been appalled at herself when she realised she had feelings for him.

He took his arm from around her and now looked down at her seriously. "I can't stop you. But I'm telling you now, Ziva. If you hurt that boy, if you lie to him and break his heart, if you take advantage of his feelings at all, I will come for you. Got it?"

Ziva nodded quickly. Honestly, she would expect nothing less.

"And when you're here," Gibbs continued, "I need you both to be thinking of the team, not each other. That means you don't pull another stunt like you did this week. You keep me in the loop. On everything."

Ziva nodded again. "Yes, Gibbs."

Gibbs turned to hit the emergency brake again and muttered, "I knew you two would cause me trouble. Your first day here, I just knew it."

Ziva smirked, but it quickly fell when the doors opened again. This time, it was Tony who was waiting on the other side, but when he saw Gibbs' face he almost ran in the other direction.

Gibbs stabbed a finger at the ground. "Get in here."

Ziva tried to slip between them, unable to think of anything she was less excited about than spending time trapped in a small metal box with Gibbs and Tony.

"I'll just—" she started, pointing at the bullpen, but Gibbs grabbed her wrist and pulled her back inside. The doors shut and the emergency brake got another smack.

While Tony and Ziva stood as far apart as possible while shooting each other panicked looks, Gibbs took a deep breath and recalled Tony's slap down from two nights ago. Apologising wasn't always a sign of weakness.

"I want to apologise to you both, but especially Tony, for being…difficult in the last few days," he started. "I had a hunch that Tony knew more than he was saying—which I was right about, I might add. But I should have trusted that you knew what you were doing. I shouldn't have reacted in the way that I did."

Tony had a joke ready and waiting to go, but he swallowed it down. Gibbs apologising twice in three days was some kind of miracle, and he doubted it would happen again if he lived to be 100. "Thank you."

Gibbs eyed Tony. "Do you really not want your own team?"

Ziva looked between them, unaware that the issue had been raised.

Tony shook his head firmly. "I'm happy here."

"I don't want you to blame me for your boredom," Gibbs told him, giving him one final chance to change his mind.

But Tony just cracked a smile. "When would I have time to get bored?"

Gibbs accepted his word and looked between them. "My team, my rules," he told them pointedly, and watched as Tony's eyes darkened and Ziva's face fell. "Except for one. I'm waving the one you already broke. First and last time, for you two only. If you fall for your next partners, you're both screwed. Got it?"

"Got it, boss," Tony said, as Ziva replied, "Yes, Gibbs."

When he leaned in, they both backed up with nerves. "The next time you two keep secrets from me, I'm reinstating it," he warned them, deadly serious. "I'll ship you," he pointed at Ziva, "back to Israel, and you," he pointed at Tony, "over to cold case. Don't make me regret it."

They both nodded, not daring to negotiate the terms of the agreement when Gibbs was being so…nice. "Thank you, boss," they said in unison.

"One final thing," he went on, enjoying the squirming looks on their faces. "You're both gonna work your asses off for each other. I don't give you permission to give up when it gets too hard. You made your bed, and you're damn well gonna lie in it."

Tony couldn't help the grin that spread across his face at Gibbs' choice of words, but it fell as soon as Gibbs turned steely eyes on him. "Understood."

For the final time, Gibbs hit the emergency button and the doors opened once again. He stepped into the bullpen without a backwards glance, and Tony and Ziva stared quietly at the doors until they closed once again. Then, Tony turned to look at her with a giant question mark on his face.

"Okay, how the hell did you do that?"

Ziva had no idea, and doubted she was at all responsible. But she just shrugged nonchalantly. "I'm just that good."

Tony smiled at her in awe, and after a moment she looked back at him with an expression he'd never seen: shyness.

"So. Will you go out with me tonight?" she asked haltingly.

Tony's smile slowly spread over his face. "Ziva, are you coming on to me?"

She sighed with heavy irritation, knowing that this was the way it was going to be for God only knew how long. "Do you want to or not?" she demanded.

"Okay. But only because Gibbs said I have to."

In response, Ziva flicked his forehead, hit the open doors button and strode out of the lift. Tony watched her go as he rubbed his head and grinned before following her.

"You know, I think I saw this in a movie once," he called after her.

**END.**

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Thanks everyone who stayed with this! I hope you enjoyed it. **


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